


"Medium Security" II

by Gaedhal



Series: "Medium Security" II [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 48,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaedhal/pseuds/Gaedhal
Summary: Brian and Justin adjust to life in the Stanton Quad.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

March 1978

 

“I hope you like my new story, Miss Carver,” said Justin Taylor.

“I’m sure that I will, Justin.” The instructor smiled. “You’re my best writer.”

The Creative Writing class had only been meeting for a few weeks, but Amy Carver already had hopes that it would be a meaningful experience for both her and her young inmate students. She was especially intrigued by Justin Taylor. He was obviously more educated than the other boys and he seemed so out of place in prison – well-mannered and articulate in a place where most of the men were sullen and decidedly lacking in communication skills.

“Thanks, Miss Carver. Most of the other guys don’t have much of a formal education,” Justin admitted. “I’ve sort of been helping Wes. Just a little. Mainly correcting his spelling and some of his sentences, but that’s all. The story is completely his.”

“Oh, his stories definitely have the ‘Wesley’ stamp all over them. But I’m glad you told me. I did notice that Wesley’s grammar had improved recently.” Amy sighed. “I only wish the boys would write more about things they know. About their lives. Their feelings. Everything Wesley writes is about outer space!”

Justin smiled. “Wes reads a lot of science fiction and comic books, Miss Carver. That’s what he likes to read, so that’s what he wants to write.”

“I realize that, Justin,” she returned. “But I’d love it if the boys would write from their own experiences. How they grew up. Their lives here in Stanton. That sort of thing.” 

One reason Amy Carver had taken the instructor’s job in a prison was because she hoped to find some writers with some real life experiences, instead of the usual middle class angst and relationship problems that her community college students detailed in their work. Amy wanted to read something ‘real’ – or maybe even find a diamond in the rough she might nurture into a publishable writer with something socially relevant to express. Instead, most of her young inmates were giving her comic book plots!

Justin shook his head. “But those are things the guys would rather not think about, Miss Carver, let alone write about. The guys in class want to escape from prison. That’s why Wes writes about outer space. That’s the furthest thing from Stanton that he can imagine. That’s his fantasy. And Stormy writes about cowboys and the Old West. He doesn’t know anything about the West except what he’s seen on TV and in the movies, but that’s where he wishes he was. Not here, but somewhere else.”

“But you write about your life, Justin,” Amy maintained. “About your family and your childhood.”

“That’s MY escape, Miss Carver,” said Justin. He picked up his legal pad and pens, along with the collection of short stories by Flannery O’Connor the instructor had recommended. “My childhood. My friends. My school. My parents and sister. The way things WERE. Not the way they are now.”

Amy looked at Justin sadly. She knew that he was in on a drug possession conviction, but she didn’t know anything about the circumstances of the case or even how long his sentence was. “Maybe you could try to write a little about life in Stanton. What your day is like. The people you know here. About your cellmate, for instance. You’ve mentioned him a few times in class and how he reads your stories and gives you feedback, but you’ve never written anything about him.”

Justin winced. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Miss Carver.”

“Why not, Justin?” she asked.

“Because....” Justin hesitated. “Because I don’t think you’d want to read what I would write. Or what any of the guys – Wes, Stormy, Zack, Lee, and even Jackie – would write about if they really wrote the truth.”

Amy Carver frowned at her student. “I don’t understand, Justin.”

Justin looked away. “Wes and Stormy and the other guys would be too embarrassed to write that stuff. Especially to a woman!” Justin replied. “And as for me – it’s too personal. It’s hard even to talk about, Miss Carver.”

Amy raised her eyebrows. “I’d be very willing to read these personal stories, Justin. Really, it’s difficult to shock me. I’m a writer, after all!”

“You say that....” Justin began. He knew he was blushing. “But... for instance, my cellmate, Brian – he’s more than just my cellmate. Much more. Do you know what I mean?”

Amy was taken aback. “You mean that... that you are having a... a relationship with your cellmate? A homosexual relationship?” Amy had read of such things happening in prison, but the inmates she taught had certainly never alluded to it. Until now, at least.

“Yes,” Justin said. “Most of the younger guys, like the kids in your class, are hooked up with somebody, Miss Carver. It’s a fact of life in the joint. But don’t ask Wes or Zack or any of them to write that down. For them it’s something they don’t want to do, but they have to do. If they’re lucky, like Wes and Stormy, then they hook up with someone nice. Someone who will let them do stuff. All the guys in this class are taking it only because their jocks say they can. There are probably 20 other guys whose old man won’t allow them to do it. They’d say it was a waste of time. That’s the reality when you’re some jocker’s punk.”

Amy Carver had been wrong. Justin HAD shocked her, although she didn’t want him to see that she was. She thought about the other boys in her class. Only one of them – the fluttery Jackie, who wrote stories about movie stars and popular singers – seemed effeminate to her. The others came across as little tough guys, especially Stormy, who was always flirting with her during class. She tried to imagine her boys – her students – being exploited sexually by older, stronger prisoners. That was a very upsetting thought.

“And your... your cellmate, Byron?” Amy said, hesitantly. “He allows you to take my Creative Writing class?”

“Brian. His name is Brian,” Justin corrected. “It’s different for us, Miss Carver. Our relationship isn’t like those others. We’re both gay and we knew it before we came to Stanton. But Brian is more than just my jock – he’s my lover. I doubt if Zack or Stormy would use that term about their old men. Brian and I are more than hooked up – we’re partners. There’s no force or threat involved. But that doesn’t mean I can write about it. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

Amy took a deep breath. “Maybe that’s why it’s important that you should write about it, Justin. Important not to hide your feelings, but to tell the truth. That’s what writers do.”

“But I’m not a real writer, Miss Carver. I’m an artist,” Justin said. “When I draw I feel like I’m telling the truth, but it’s hard to write down things that feel too true. Besides, I don’t think the other guys want to hear me read some story about my sex life! And I don’t blame them!”

“Think about it, Justin. Maybe you could write just for me and not for the entire class. It might help you to work through your emotions,” Amy said with concern. “I know that you’re frustrated in prison. You’re a very intelligent young man and it might make you feel more in control of your life if you can write about that frustration.”

“I’ll think about it, Miss Carver,” Justin promised. “Thanks.”

Justin turned and began to walk out of the classroom. Brian was going to meet him downstairs and walk him back to their cell. He didn’t like Justin going through the passageway connecting the Administration Building with the Quad by himself, especially in the evening. But Justin stopped when he thought of something.

“Miss Carver?”

“Yes, Justin?”

“You say that you want to read about what life is really like in prison. About our lives here. Do you mean that?” Justin asked.

Amy smiled at the boy. “Yes, of course I mean it, Justin.”

“Then would you be interested in reading... something that Brian wrote?” Justin hesitated. No one else but Justin – and Ron, of course – had ever read any of Brian’s manuscript. But Miss Carver was a real writer. She had published things and taught writing at a college. She would know if Brian’s story was really as good as Justin thought it was. Justin had only read bits and pieces of Brian’s memoir, but what he had read was compelling. Maybe if the truth about Brian’s story came out and people could read it, then they’d understand who he was. Not a murderer or a horrible criminal, but someone who had made one very bad mistake – and who was now paying for it with his entire life.

“Yes,” Amy answered. “If your friend wouldn’t mind, I’d love to read what he’s written.” Amy paused and laughed. “It isn’t about outer space or cowboys, is it?”

But Justin didn’t smile. “No, Miss Carver, it isn’t. Not cowboys or outer space. It’s more like a horror story. A horror story that is still going on, every day Brian is in this place. I’ll try to bring some of the manuscript next week. Thanks.” And Justin left the room and headed down to meet Brian.

A horror story. Amy Carver shuddered. She had wanted to read something truthful and meaningful about prison. Maybe she should never have asked for that. Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew with this subject, with these inmates. But Amy also knew that she couldn’t pass up the chance to read this man’s story. In fact, she couldn’t wait until next week. 

She picked up her briefcase and walked out into the brisk late winter air, thinking about cowboys and outer space – and young boys locked in iron cages only yards away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron at work.

Chapter 2

 

“Jennifer!” said Ron, standing up and coming around to the front if his desk to meet his visitor. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He took her left hand. It was cold. She should be wearing her gloves in this bitter March weather.

“I can only stay a minute, Ron. I brought you Justin’s transcripts. And a list of his teachers from St. James who are willing to vouch for his character,” said Jennifer, handing Ron a manila folder. “I hope it will help.”

Ron smiled. “Every bit of information that is positive about Justin is in your son’s favor,” Ron said forcefully. “We want the judge to see what Justin is really like and not the way the prosecutor characterized him at his trial. Everyone who loves him knows that Justin isn’t a drug addict or a pusher. That he’s an intelligent and talented young man with a promising future!”

“Bless you, Ron!” Jennifer said, flushing bright red. “You’ve given me so much hope!”

“It would mean everything to me to free your boy, Jen. Everything,” Ron asserted. Her hand was warming up in his. “Have you gotten any more letters from him?”

“Yes,” she said, taking out Justin’s latest. “He’s asking for more things for his cellmate, Brian. The man’s birthday is coming up soon.”

“Yes,” Ron replied. “In April.” Ron took the letter from Jennifer’s hand. Brian’s 30th birthday was on April 10th. “Let me look this over and then I can advise you what to send – and what not to send.”

“Thanks so much, Ron! I don’t know what I’d do without you. I mean that.” Jennifer stood and gazed at the man. While Craig was cold and uncaring, Ron was warm and open. And he was so anxious to help Justin, too! He did such good work for all the prisoners that Jennifer was certain he would find a way for Justin to get out of Stanton. Ron would be her savior – she was sure of it!

“I do what I can,” said Ron. 

He still had hold of Jennifer’s left hand. He always stared at her so intently. His blue eyes were piercing, like laser beams that went right through her. And he was so handsome, too. His dark hair was touched with gray and his dominating presence always overwhelmed her whenever she stood near him.

Jennifer only reluctantly pulled her hand out of Ron’s grasp. “I’m visiting Justin on Thursday. I hate to run, but I really need to go now.”

“Must you leave so soon?” asked Ron. He stepped slightly closer to her.

“I have to pick up Molly at school.” Jennifer paused. “I’d ask you to ride with me to Stanton on Thursday, but I promised Mrs. Novotny that I would drive her and it might be awkward.”

“Of course,” said Ron. “I understand perfectly. That’s so kind of you to do this woman a favor. So typical of your thoughtfulness, Jennifer.” 

Ron knew Mikey Novotny. Or Michelle, as he was known as in the joint. A whiny drag queen with the hots for Brian. Ron had warned the little bastard away from Baby more than once. Luckily, Baby never showed any kind of interest in Mikey Novotny.

Ron is so very understanding, thought Jennifer. Poor Mrs. Novotny doesn’t have a car, so the only way she can see her son is to take a long bus trip. And I don't mind driving her. She knows what it’s like to have a son in prison. I don’t feel so alone that way.

“Jennifer,” Ron whispered, his lips brushing her golden hair. “Don’t forget. Tomorrow. At 1:00. The usual place.”

Jennifer paused, licking her lips. “I can’t stay more than a hour. What if Craig... or someone else... what if they...?”

“No one will see us, Jen. I promise,” Ron returned. “No one we know will be in that part of town.”

“I know, but....”

“No ‘buts,’ my dear. Tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” Ron opened the door and Jennifer slipped out quietly.

She WAS lovely, Ron thought. And her skin was so soft and pale. Her son, Justin, must have skin like that, too. Soft and pale and blond. But Jennifer was only a diversion, as her son was a mere diversion for Brian. Sex with people like that meant nothing in the long run. It was true emotion that mattered. And history. That connection with Fate. That meant everything. That’s what Ron had with Brian. And also what Brian had with Ron – and with no one else. And nothing was going to break that bond. Ron would see to that.

He sat back down at his desk and opened the folder that Jennifer had given him, glancing through the names of the kid’s teachers. He would be out of Stanton quickly. And Brian would forget about him just as quickly. 

Ron set the folder aside and focused on the letter he was drafting to Carl Horvath, the warden at Stanton. It was a forceful and well-reasoned request – no, a DEMAND – for a Family Visit with Brian. A Conjugal Visit, actually. It wasn’t fair that inmates without family connections were denied this privilege. Especially a prisoner with such a spotless record as Brian.

Carl Horvath was very aware of the image of his prison. He liked to see himself as a progressive warden. He was, after all, the man who had cleaned up the corruption at Stanton when he took over the place and closed down the major scams the gangs were running. But recently Horvath had become more lax. And Ron knew a few things about good old Carl. Ron could definitely use that knowledge to swing the Family Visit. The Conjugal.

Yes, Ron had been thinking about that more and more. When he first got out of Stanton the novelty of fucking his wife Jane again had been exciting. Or of having a number of willing women at his disposal. He’d known Julie, his original lawyer at the Prisoners’ Legal Defense, for over a decade and he was well aware that she’d had a crush on his for most of those years. So finally getting her into bed was great. And Ron still enjoyed an office quickie with her now and then. Even though her best years were behind her, Julie was still a hippie at heart and she would fuck anywhere, any time. And Jennifer – yes, she WAS a lovely diversion. But he’d be finished with her once her kid was on parole and out of Ron’s hair.

But Baby. That was something he’d never get tired of. That long, tight body. That perfect 9-inch cock. Those green eyes and red lips. Ron had wandered down to Liberty Avenue a few times and picked up guys who reminded him of Brian, but the resemblance had only been superficial. None of them was Baby. None of them had that delicious ass. That mouth like a tub of butter.

Ron worked on the draft of his letter to Warden Horvath. Maybe a personal visit would help things along. Yes, a little talk with Carl Horvath. With the photos of him and Mrs. Novotny together. The awful Mikey’s garish mother. Ron shuddered at the thought of Horvath and Debbie Novotny naked. It grated on Ron’s tender sensibilities. 

But Walter, the detective that the PLD used to gather information for cases, was good. He could get compromising pictures of anyone. Carl would enjoy seeing those snapshots. Ron could picture Carl’s face when he saw them. The warden fucking the mother of an inmate! And then Carl would hardly be in a position to deny Ron’s request for the Conjugal.

Soon. It would be very soon! Ron reached down and touched his cock through his trousers. 

He could hardly wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up on the iron pile.

Chapter 3

 

Brian was up on the iron pile with Al and Junior, his buddies from the third tier basketball team, when the new inmate came in.

“Hey,” said Junior to the new guy. Junior considered himself to be the leader of the third tier jockers and he always sussed out all the new meat in town.

“Yeah, hey,” he returned. He was a big guy, obviously heavily into lifting. His upper body was packed with muscle.

“This is Al and that’s Brian over there,” said Junior, carefully taking the measure of the new jock.

“Hi, guys,” the big guy replied shortly. “I’m Ben.” Then he went over into the corner by himself and started working his legs.

“He’s a real chatterbox,” Brian commented.

“I think he’s a little strange,” Al added. “Beemer says that he transferred in from the Psycho Center in Harrisburg.” The Psychiatric Center was where they routed problem inmates for evaluation for mental problems and drug addiction before sending them on to their assigned prisons.

“The Psycho Center? That’s real promising!” Brian snorted.

“Yeah,” Al continued. “He’s in for beating up some guy and almost killing him with his bare hands. It was ‘roid rage.’ The guy’s a fucking juice pig! He was in the Psycho getting the steroids out of his system.”

The three of them watched as Ben started his workout. The guy really was a fucking mass of muscle.

“Jesus, he’s like the Incredible Hulk!” said Junior.

“No shit!” Brian laughed. “Remind me not to arm wrestle that guy.”

“He’s on the second tier,” Junior frowned. “You think he’s gonna join their b-ball team?”

“He might,” Brian replied. “They’re losing Dave soon when he gets out on parole, so they’re going to need another power forward.” Brian looked the new guy up and down. “He might fit the bill. Don’t know how fast he’d be, though.”

“He doesn’t need to be fast to scare the hell out of the other team. Jesus! Look at those arms!” Junior shook his head. “You think the juice did all that?”

“That’s why they take it, man!” said Al. “But it makes ’em fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, crazy enough to break somebody in half – with his bare hands!” said Brian. “No thanks!”

Al and Junior finished up and headed back to the tier to shower before dinner. Brian took a little more time, waiting until he knew Justin was finished with his afternoon Civics class so Brian could go over and escort him back through the passageway from the Administration Building.

“Hey,” said Ben, the new guy. “Brian, right?”

“Yeah,” Brian answered, immediately wary. You never knew where you stood with new meat. Especially this guy, Juice Pig. Of course, Brian knew a little about being psycho himself. But that had been a long time ago.

“I’ve seen you around. In the Chow Hall and the Yard.” Ben paused. “With the blond kid.”

Brian stiffened defensively. “What about it?” It figures that this new bastard would have his eye on Justin.

“Oh, nothing,” Ben shrugged. “Just wondering if you two were hooked up?”

“What do you think?” Brian bristled. “We’re hooked up – tight. So back off.” 

The two men were almost the same height, but Ben looked like a brick shithouse next to Brian’s smooth, lean form. He could probably break me in half, too, if he wanted to, Brian thought. But he couldn’t let Ben know that. It was all in the attitude. Brian stared back at the other man evenly. 

“Sure, pal, sure,” said Ben. “I was just finding out. I don’t know that many people here yet and I’m just figuring out what’s what.”

Brian ran his hands through his messy hair. “All of the punks in here are hooked up already. Some of them will do another guy a favor now and then – for a price. But find out if the kid’s jock knows about it and then give him his cut. Otherwise, it could be trouble.”

“Yeah, I understand,” said Ben.

“Some of the queens are at loose ends, but you’d need to talk with Emmy about that. She’s the head of all the girls in the East Wing,” Brian advised. “She can introduce you around.”

“Thanks for the scoop, pal. I mean that.” Ben rubbed himself with his towel. 

“I have to book,” said Brian, backing away. “See ya.”

“Sure,” said Ben. “See you around. And the blond, too. What’s his name, again?”

“His name,” said Brian, pointedly. “Is ‘None-of-Your-Fucking-Business.’ Get it?”

“I get it.” Ben shrugged. “No offense.”

“Yeah, right.” Brian picked up his stuff and stalked out of the gym on his way to pick up Justin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sleepy.

Chapter 4

 

“Brian?”

Brian took a deep breath. It was long after lights-out and he and Justin had already fucked twice. But Justin was the kind of person who wanted to talk afterwards, while Brian liked to fuck hard and then fall into a deep, sound sleep.

“What?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Is it possible to stop you?”

“Shut up!” said Justin, giving Brian a little pinch. 

“This isn’t about my stupid birthday, is it?” Brian sighed. “Because I told you that I don’t need anything more. I really mean that, Justin. I have more clothes now than I’ve ever had in here. So don’t ask your mother to buy anything else. She’s going to think that I’m taking advantage of you.”

“She would never think that!” Justin insisted. “She likes getting us stuff. She told me that she does.” Justin snuggled closer to Brian. He was nice and warm, better than an electric blanket. “It makes her happy to see me happy.”

“I doubt your mom would be very happy if she could see you right now, in bed with a convicted murderer,” Brian whispered. 

Sometimes he worried about his relationship with Justin. Worried that they were both too emotionally involved much too soon. But neither of them was able to help it. They could barely keep their hands off each other even when they were out on the tier or in the Yard or walking to the Chow Hall. Sometimes Brian had to stop himself and step back, remembering that he needed at least to pretend to keep an emotional distance from the kid in front of the other inmates. But when they were alone, neither of them gave a shit. Everyone in the East Wing knew that they fucked about 5 times a day. It was a running joke on the tier.

“I said shut up!” Justin whispered back. “You know that’s not you. You never murdered anyone!”

Brian closed his eyes. “The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania would beg to disagree with you, kid. Now go to sleep.”

“Brian?”

“What now?”

“You know my Creative Writing teacher? Miss Carver?”

“Did she make a pass at you? Go for it, Justin. Maybe you’ll be converted.”

“She didn’t make a pass at me!” Justin pinched Brian again, gently. “And I don’t want to be converted. I like dick!”

“Smart boy! And it’s a good thing, too, because you’re going to get plenty of it living with me. Now go to sleep!”

“Brian?”

“Aren’t you sleepy at all?”

“Not really.” Justin paused. “I want to show my teacher some of your writing. From your manuscript. Just a little bit. Some of the prison stuff.”

Brian’s stomach clenched. “I don’t think so, Justin. What does she want to read that shit for? I’m not in her class.”

“I know. But I want her to see it.” Justin moved his face against Brian’s neck. “I want to her see how good it is.”

“It isn’t good. It’s just the rantings of a frustrated prisoner. Who the fuck wants to read THAT?”

“She does. I did.” Justin rubbed his smooth cheek against Brian’s rough one. His beard always seemed to start coming in almost as soon as Brian had finished shaving. Justin loved the scratchy sensation on his own sensitive skin. “I think a lot of people would want to read it. People who are interested in the truth.”

Brian opened his eyes and stared up at the bottom of the upper bunk. The sagging springs and iron bed frame. The old mattress that Justin never slept on. “People weren’t interested in the truth way back when, so why they should they be interested now? No one gives a shit about the Vietnam War or campus radicals or any of that stuff in 1978. It’s ancient history. I’m ancient history. Something everyone would rather forget. Even my own fucking family.” 

“I don’t believe that, Brian. And don’t YOU believe it, either!” Justin urged. “Please don’t give up! It isn’t hopeless. It isn’t! You’ll get a new trial someday, Brian. I know you will!”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” said Brian, turning over and pulling the blanket up around both of them. “Just go to sleep – or I’ll make you climb up on the top bunk so I can get a little rest.”

“Sorry, Brian,” Justin whispered. “I’ll be quiet.”

It was dark and silent on the tier, with only the light from the spotlights outside shining in through the window. Justin watched the light making weird shadows on the wall of the cell. He thought about ways to draw those shadows and make them into living shapes. Part of him wanted to get up and get his sketchbook. But the other part of him wanted to stay in this position. pressed up against his lover in the dark, forever.

Justin closed his eyes and joined Brian in sleep, their arms wrapped around one another, tightly and tenderly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Visitors' Day in the Quad.

Chapter 5

 

“Mom!” cried Justin as he entered the Visitors’ Gallery and saw his mother sitting at one of the tables. “Hi!”

“Honey, I’m so glad to see you!” replied Jennifer, hugging her son. She told herself that she wasn’t going to tear up, but seeing Justin smiling and looking so beautiful forced her to reach into her purse for her packet of Kleenex. “Are you eating well? How are you sleeping? You wrote that you’re taking some classes. How do you like them?”

“Mom, hold it! Please!” said Justin, his head spinning. He pulled back from her arms and they both sat down, across from each other. “I can only answer one question at a time!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just that I’m so happy to see you!” Jennifer put her crumpled kleenex down. “You aren’t going to run away halfway through our visit this time, are you?”

“No, Mom,” said Justin. “I won’t run away. I’m sorry about that, but Brian was really upset that day and....” Justin stopped when he saw the look on his mother’s face. And it wasn’t a happy look. “Mom, you wrote to me and you also said on the phone that you understand about me and Brian. Do you? Do you, really? Because it’s important to me that you understand.”

Jennifer looked away, feeling very uncomfortable. “I... I’m trying, honey. But... it’s difficult. Difficult to think about you... and this man.” Jennifer lowered her voice. “Justin, please tell me that you’re not really having... having sex with him?”

Justin sighed. “I can’t tell you that, Mom, because it wouldn’t be the truth.”

“Oh, Justin!” Jennifer moaned, holding her head.

“Mom, please listen to me,” said Justin. “I love Brian. I really do. I’m not saying it just to shock you. It’s simply the truth. I need him – and he needs me. We help each other in here. It’s a partnership. I do things for him and he does things for me. He encourages me to take classes. We sit together in the Library and I do my homework and he works on his Legal Aid cases. He’s not a rough or hard person, like you seem to think. Before he... he was arrested he was a college student at Penn State. He’s smart and he’s gentle.” Justin sat up taller on the wooden chair. “And he’s protecting me, Mom. That’s another thing. I don’t want to go into it right now, but... Brian protects me. You’re getting friendly with Mrs. Novotny, Mich... I mean, Michael’s mother. Ask her about the way things are in here, Mom. She’ll tell you.”

Jennifer swallowed. “Justin, you’re scaring me!”

Justin took a deep breath. “Maybe you need to be scared a little, Mom, if that’s what it’ll take for you to understand what goes on in here. But from the minute I first saw Brian, I knew that he was important to me, and he’s proven that he is, again and again. So don’t tell me that I don’t know what I feel. I DO know. And I mean that.” 

Justin stared directly at his mother, waiting. But Jennifer only blinked back at him. Ron had warned her that things might happen to Justin in prison that he wouldn’t want to talk about, but nothing could have possibly prepared her for her 19 year old son’s declaration of love for his cellmate. His convicted murderer cellmate! Ron had reassured her that Brian wasn’t a violent person, but that still didn’t put her mind at ease.

Jennifer looked down the row of tables. She saw Ron sitting at a table near the end. Alone. He kept looking at his watch and then looking around. Obviously Brian, his old cellmate and Justin’s current cellmate, was not in the mood for a visit. 

“Mom, I’m taking a couple of classes this semester,” Justin continued. “Civics and Creative Writing here at Stanton. The classrooms are in this building, upstairs. And I’m also taking a correspondence course in English Lit. The professor sends me the books and the assignments and I write essays and send them back to him.”

“That’s so nice, Justin,” Jennifer replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. But her eyes kept glancing over to where Ron was sitting by himself. Ron said that Brian was often sullen and difficult to control. If Brian was being obstinate and not doing his work for the Prisoners’ Legal Defense, then that might impact Justin’s case. It might slow things down. What if this man, this Brian, didn’t want Justin to leave prison? What if he was enjoying her innocent son too much? Taking sexual advantage of him? What if he was sabotaging Justin’s chances for parole, or even a new trial? What if...?

“I’m getting college credit for the courses, too, Mom,” Justin interrupted. “I only wish they had an Art class, but they don’t. They don’t really have the facilities for a real art studio. Most of the classes they offer are pretty basic. Like the Civics course. But that’s okay. Anything that keeps your mind working is worthwhile. That’s what Brian says. He’s taken a lot of courses over the years in all sorts of subjects.” 

“That’s... very heartening, honey,” Jennifer replied. “It’s good to keep busy.”

“The food isn’t great in here, but there’s plenty of it. And I get two desserts at dinner every night. Brian fixed it for me.” Justin grinned. “That’s one way he takes care of me, Mom. And I do our laundry once a week with my friend, Em. She... he works in the Hospital. Sometimes Mrs. Novotny’s son does laundry with us.”

“It’s good that you’re making friends here, Justin. Mrs. Novotny is such a nice woman. I’m sure her son will be a very good friend to you.”

Justin bit his lip. “Michael is all right, Mom, but I don’t hang around the quee... his friends all that much. Except for Em. I hang out with Brian, mainly. And some of the younger guys I take my classes with. Wes lives right next door on the tier. And Stormy and his jock... I mean, his cellmate, are across the way. And there’s Lee and Zack, too. Sometimes I help them with their homework. Brian says it’s smart to get in good with as many guys as you can, because you might need a favor from them later on. So I always help the guys whenever I can.”

“That sounds... very helpful of you, Justin.” Jennifer didn’t really understand half of what Justin was telling her, but at least he seemed content with the way things were. And for some reason that troubled her even more than if he had been depressed. Because she could understand her son being despondent in this horrible place. But the fact that he seemed almost... happy unnerved her. Yes, Justin was happy! Because of that man. That Brian. She needed to talk to Ron before they both left here! She needed to find out more about that Brian Kinney!

“And Brian is on our third tier basketball team. They’re pretty good, too!” Jennifer suddenly realized that Justin was chattering away and she was hardly even listening to him.

“Maybe you could play on the team, too, honey?” Jennifer suggested.

Justin shook his head. “That’s only for jocks, Mom. Not kids. I... I wouldn’t be... tall enough. But Brian is on the team! That’s the important thing! He’s part of their team!” 

Justin searched his mother’s face. She obviously couldn’t fathom the importance of Brian’s acceptance by the jockers as one of their own. Maybe he should stick to talking about school. 

“My Creative Writing teacher, Miss Carver, is really good. She’s about the only female we ever see in here – except on Visiting Day, of course. Stormy has a big crush on her!” Justin laughed.

“Oh, is she a young woman, then?” asked Jennifer absently. She glanced over to where Ron was sitting. He was still sitting alone. She had to catch him before he ran off!

“I don’t know,” Justin shrugged. “Maybe she’s Brian’s age or a little older. She teaches at the local community college. But she has blonde hair and she’s female, so Stormy is in love with her! I think he would probably be in love with her even if she was 20 years older and had a bag over her head! Poor Stormy!” 

All the guys joked about how horny Stormy was all the time. He traded every credit he had for porno magazines and his cell was covered with posters of Farrah Fawcett-Majors, Raquel Welch, Cher, and Lynda Carter. Justin thought about his cell, which was papered with his own drawings, mainly of Brian. Maybe he’d make a big portrait of Brian for his birthday. But he'd need some larger, thicker paper. And it should be in color.

“Mom, do you think you could get me some more art supplies? Some bigger pads. And a box of colored pencils? Or pastels?”

“Oh, certainly, honey.” Jennifer took out her little notepad and wrote down the supplies Justin indicated. At least he wasn’t asking for anything more for Brian.

“And about Brian, Mom,” Justin added. “I told you that his birthday is coming up. Did you get that list of things I want to give him?”

Jennifer hesitated. Ron had warned her not to promise Justin anything more for Brian. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The hour began winding down. Jennifer and her son stood and she clung to him, unable to let go until Justin finally pulled away. 

“I’ll see you next month, Mom,” said Justin, sadly. “Kiss Molly for me. And give Dad my love.” And then he was gone.

Jennifer stood for a few minutes, her eyes brimming. Then she remembered and turned to where Ron had been sitting. He was gone, too.

Jennifer went over to Mrs. Novotny. “Debbie, when did Mr. Rosenblum leave? I needed to talk to him about Justin’s case!”

Debbie shrugged. “He hustled his butt out the door a while ago, kiddo. Looks like he and his old cellie are on the outs. Bri Baby never showed up to visit with him. I guess they didn’t get a chance to kiss and make up after their little tiff last month!”

“Damn!” Jennifer swore under her breath. She couldn’t call Ron’s house because Jane was so suspicious. And she hated calling his office too often. But she had to see him! There were so many things to discuss. And that Brian seemed to be the cause of so much trouble! If only he weren’t in Stanton! If only Justin hadn’t fallen into his hands!

Ron would know how to advise her. He would know what to do.

Jennifer and Debbie Novotny walked out of the Visitors’ Gallery and out to the parking lot. The sun was out and shining brightly. It looked like there was going to be an early spring this year.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin sees something troubling.

Chapter 6

 

March 1978 

 

Brian and Justin walked slowly through the long passageway between the Quad and the Administration Building on their way to Justin’s Creative Writing class. They were early because Brian was meeting with Michelle’s jocker, Dave, for one final briefing before his meeting with the Parole Board the next day.

The passageway was empty, so they held hands as they walked. Usually they only did that on their own tier, where everyone knew them. There they could kiss outside the cell or in the Rec Room or even make out while they were watching a show in the TV Room, which was always a little dimmer than the brightly lit Rec Room. A lot of the men made out with their kids in the late evenings by the light of the old television set, but none quite as much as Brian and Justin. But that was okay – at least on the tier.

On your own tier it was different than in the rest of the Quad. The guys on your tier knew everything. They were like your family. Even the jockers on the third tier of the East Wing didn’t seem to mind when the two showed more than the accepted amount of affection to each other. That wasn’t usually what jocks did with their punks, but all the guys on the tier knew Brian was different from most jocks, so they cut him a lot of slack. However, jockers on other tiers, especially in the rougher South Wing, might not be as tolerant, so the pair still had to be careful.

At the end of the passageway Brian pushed the kid into the corner and pressed up against him hard, attacking his wide, pink mouth, slipping his hands down the back of his white workpants. Brian couldn’t keep his hands off that smooth ass or out of Justin’s silky golden hair. And Justin was always just as eager to reciprocate, darting his tongue into Brian’s hot mouth.

Brian took his mouth away and gasped for breath. “We better quit it or I’m going to come right here.”

“I’ll suck you off,” said Justin. “No one is around. I can get you off in a minute.”

“No,” Brian returned. “It’s too dangerous, especially off tier. If they catch us in the Administration Building we’ll both get written up. They might even separate us. It isn’t worth the risk.” Brian rubbed his throbbing cock, wishing it to retreat at least a little.

Justin leaned up and licked his ear. “I want you to fuck me silly tonight. I want you to fuck me on all fours, like a dog, on the floor. And then I want to switch. I want to fuck you like a dog. Okay?”

“Shhh,” Brian whispered. “Don’t talk about that. I mean it.” 

It was one thing to hold hands and make out, but if anyone found out that Brian let his punk fuck him, even occasionally, Brian would probably end up getting gang raped himself. And Justin would be taken away from him by another jock. All the jocks would see to that. That was the way things worked. 

No matter how much the other jocks might respect Brian and depend on his legal work, playing the part of the bitch, the catcher, was one thing they’d never understand or tolerate in another jocker, especially given Brian’s past as a former punk. He and Justin would be labeled as real queers and then they would both be fair game for any man in the Quad. A real fag had a status lower than a queen, and even lower than a biker punk. The only thing lower in prison was a child molester – or a snitch. And neither of those things lived very long in prison outside of permanent PC – 24 hour Protective Custody.

Brian left Justin at his classroom and headed back through the passageway to meet Dave in the Law Library. Dave’s parole was already a done deal. By this time next week he’d be processing to leave Stanton. 

Poor Michelle. She’d been dreading the moment when her old man got out. A bunch of horny jockers, most of them low status losers, had been kissing up to her recently, wanting to hook up. But she didn’t like any of them. Michelle, like a lot of queens, was fussy. Dave was a big, good-looking guy, only in his early forties and still in prime shape. Michelle liked a guy who took care of himself. Brian thought that she read too many of those comic books full of muscled superheroes! That wasn’t reality.

Except....

Brian had a brilliant thought. That new guy, Ben. He looked like he stepped straight out of a comic book! All that pumped up bulk. Yes, he was a juice pig, but he was supposedly off the stuff now. Brian made a mental note to ask Emmett to get the two of them together. Em loved playing matchmaker. 

And having his own bitch would get Ben’s mind off Justin. Brian had seen the guy looking at his kid in the Chow Hall and on the Yard and Brian didn’t like it one bit. Brian didn’t think Ben would go so far as to challenge him over the kid, but you never knew with a horny guy. But Michelle would take good care of Ben. She’d pamper him like crazy and keep him occupied. And away from Justin.

The classroom was empty and Justin loitered around, waiting. There was still almost 20 minutes before Creative Writing was due to begin and Miss Carver wasn’t there yet. Justin had about 30 pages of Brian’s manuscript hidden in his folder and he was anxious to give it to her. 

And Brian didn’t know he’d taken it. Justin had grabbed an early portion of the manuscript, so Brian would be less likely to notice that it was missing. Once he’d written a section, Brian rarely went back and looked at it again. He just filed it in with the legal cases and went on to the next section he was writing, so methodically, in his strong, curving script, on page after page of yellow legal paper.

Justin set down his books and folders and headed for the bathroom. Even before he opened the door, he heard them in there. Justin entered quietly and saw Stormy and Wesley. Wesley was bent over one of the toilets and Stormy was ramming his ass vigorously with his thick cock.

“Close that fucking door!” Stormy hissed to Justin. “Come on over. Wes will blow you and then when I’m finished you can fuck him, too.”

Wes, his face red with exertion, grunted. “It’s okay, Just,” he said. “I’ll suck you off and then you and Stormy can switch. But hurry up!”

“Um, that’s all right,” said Justin, backing away. He knew that a lot of the punks, frustrated by being constantly used by their jocks and never getting off themselves, often fucked each other. But Justin wasn’t frustrated. And Wes and Stormy were his friends. And they were straight – or claimed they were. It made Justin feel creepy. But he didn’t leave the bathroom. He guarded the door and watched as Stormy came noisily, buried deep in Wesley’s chubby ass.

“Shit!” cried Stormy. “I bet that Miss Carver could use a nice, hard dick like mine! I’d fuck her senseless. You like my dick, Wes? Huh?” 

“Sure, Stormy. Sure,” said Wes, looking away. He pulled up his pants. Now that the moment was over, he seemed embarrassed by the whole thing. Or maybe it was because Justin had seen him being fucked by Stormy. 

Stormy was much bigger and tougher than poor, flabby little Wes. Justin noticed that Wes didn’t get to fuck Stormy. So Wes was probably getting used not only by his jocker, Al, but by the other punks, too, whenever they felt the need to play the man’s role. So Wes was doubly victimized. But he never complained. Complaining would be a violation of the ‘Code’ and Wes would probably get messed up for breaking one of those unwritten and unspoken rules.

“Come on, guys,” said Justin. “It’s almost time for class. I thought I heard someone go into the classroom.”

Stormy washed his hands at the sink and strolled out, leaving Justin and Wes standing there, awkwardly.

“Don’t tell your old man about this, Justin. Please?” Wes begged. “Al might... he might get mad. Whenever his buddies want to borrow me, he always says no. He’s kind of possessive. So please don't tell Bri. He’ll tell Al! You know how the jocks stick together, so we gotta stick together, too. Right, Justin?”

“I won’t tell, Wes,” Justin promised. “Don’t worry. I’m your pal. I’ll never squeal on you.”

“Thanks, Just,” said Wesley with relief. “And if you ever... you know? All you have to do is ask. Okay?”

“It’s all right, Wes,” said Justin. “We’re pals. That’s all I want from you. To be your friend.”

Wesley nodded and both boys walked out of the bathroom to go to class.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's manuscript.

Chapter 7

 

“Miss Carver? I... I have that stuff I promised you,” said Justin, laying a manila folder down on the desk in front of her.

“Thank you, Justin,” said Amy. “Please take your seat and we’ll begin.”

Amy decided that the boys needed a little more direction in their writing, so she gave them an assignment to write three one paragraph descriptions of a person, a place, and a thing from their own experience. She wanted them to write something that they actually knew, that they could see. No space ships, no cowboys, no movie stars. The boys frowned a bit and then started scratching away with their ballpoint pens.

While they wrote, Amy opened up the folder Justin had given her. It was full of pages of yellow legal paper. The handwriting varied, sometimes flowing and sometimes cramped and difficult to read. But Amy had been deciphering student essays for years, so she settled down to see what kind of fantasies Justin’s cellmate – or his boyfriend, rather – had come up with.

Amy realized immediately that she had landed in the middle of the story. Or at least well after the beginning. It took place in 1968, during the campus protests against the war in Vietnam. And as she read Amy began to feel a strange sense of déjà vu. She knew what was going to happen. She KNEW this story. Knew that it had really happened. Remembered it from her own days as a college student involved in social issues and protests and sex and drugs all of the things that marked off the 1960’s as an insane and beautiful time.

But Justin had said that his cellmate was writing a horror story. And that’s what this was. This inevitable movement of a young man from idealism and naivete into betrayal and destruction.

“Miss Carver? I’m finished,” said Jackie, waving his hand in the air, languidly. 

Since Justin had told her about the boys in her class and the older inmates she had started looking at them differently. She noticed that Jackie was wearing a woven leather bracelet on his arm and earrings. And maybe even a touch of mascara around his eyes. And she noticed how Wes seemed scared to look her in the eye, while Stormy was openly flirtatious and aggressive. And also that Lee had some bruises on his arms that looked like marks made by someone’s fingers, squeezing deeply into his skin.

“That’s fine, Jackie,” said Amy, setting the pages she had been reading aside reluctantly. “Is everyone else finished?”

The boys all nodded – except for Zack, who was always the slowest to finish his in-class work. Then Amy had the boys read their paragraphs aloud and discuss what they had written. 

As usual, Justin’s was the most specific and literate. He had an artist’s eye for detail and a large vocabulary. His description of a person was of his cellmate, Brian. But now Amy listened avidly, trying to picture the man whose words she had just been reading. Justin made him sound like a paragon of male beauty, but Amy chalked that up to a young man’s infatuation with his older lover.

Still, Amy wanted to meet this man herself. Justin’s Brian. Or at least catch a glimpse of him somehow. But she didn’t know how that would be possible. She was not allowed into the area where the inmates were housed and she never came into contact with any of the men except her own students. Warden Horvath and the administration were very careful about that. They said it was for her own safety. But she wondered if there were some way around this prohibition. Because if Justin’s cellmate was who she thought he was – well, Amy wanted to meet him very badly. Wanted to talk to him. And she wanted to see the rest of his manuscript!

Class ended and the boys gathered up their books and papers. Amy collected their descriptions and slipped them into her briefcase as the boys filed out the door.

“Justin?”

“Yes, Miss Carver?” 

Amy hesitated. “Thank you for giving me these pages to read.”

Justin nodded. “I noticed that you were looking at them while we were writing. I... I hope they’re really as good as I think they are. But please don’t lose them, Miss Carver! There’s only one copy and if you lost it – if Brian even KNEW that I gave you part of his manuscript to read, he’d probably kill me!” But then Justin winced, remembering what Brian had been convicted of. “I don’t really mean he’d kill me, Miss Carver. He’d never hurt anyone. But he’d be pretty angry at me.”

“I understand, Justin,” Amy reassured him. “I’ll give this back to you next week and no one will be the wiser. But I’d love to read more – if that’s possible?”

Justin grinned broadly. “I’ll try to bring some more pages for you next week. Thanks for taking the time to read it.”

“Justin?” Amy said, stopping him as he headed for the door. “Is your... your cellmate named Brian Kinney?”

Justin stared at his teacher in wonder. Brian’s full name was nowhere on the manuscript, only his first name mentioned occasionally within the context of the story. “Yes, it is. How... how do you know that? How do you know Brian?”

Amy sighed. “I was in college in 1968, Justin. This was a very famous case. The Kinney trial was all over the news. What you gave me here – it’s all about what happened before he was arrested. Before the trial. All the events leading up to... to the bombing of that building on the Penn State campus and the death of that security guard.”

Justin swallowed. His throat felt very tight. “I haven’t read that part yet, Miss Carver. I just grabbed what I could from the beginning of the manuscript. The parts I’ve read are the more recent stuff. Mainly about life in prison and Brian’s work with the Prisoners’ Legal Defense. Brian doesn’t talk much about... about his trial or anything like that. I think it’s too painful for him.”

“You mean you’ve never read this yourself?” said Amy, very surprised.

“No, Miss Carver,” Justin admitted. “I really only vaguely know that Brian got caught and a bunch of other people – the ones who really planned the bombing – all got away. And they’re still free. They all went underground. And Brian got convicted on all these charges, including murder.” Justin felt a thickness in the back of his throat. “But he’s innocent! He didn’t do any of those things! He couldn’t have! I know he couldn’t have! And if you knew him, you’d know it, too!” Justin said hotly.

Amy Carver gazed at this passionate boy. She wanted so much to put her arms around him and comfort him, but that would mean instant dismissal if anyone found out. Touching the inmates in any way was strictly forbidden. “Justin, from what I’ve been reading here, just this little bit, let me tell you that... that I believe you.”

“You do?” Justin blinked back a few tears. Never let them see you cry. Ever.

“Yes, Justin,” said Amy. “And it’s possible that there are things in this manuscript that might also convince other people that your friend is innocent. But I have to read more of it. Maybe get another opinion from another writer. Or even an editor.”

“Yes! Please do that! Anything, Miss Carver!” Justin pleaded. “I’ll get you more of it! More of the early chapters.” Justin glanced up at the classroom clock. Brian was waiting for him in the passageway. “I have to go now. But I’ll bring more next week! I won’t forget!”

Justin spun out of the classroom, his heart pounding. Brian’s case wasn’t hopeless! Justin was certain of it! And Justin would be the one to get him free! Justin would make sure that people knew the true story! And then Brian would be released and Justin would be paroled, too. And they would live together and be happy! He knew it! It HAD to be! It just had to! 

He ran down the stairs and saw Brian waiting, leaning against the wall of the passageway, smoking a cigarette. And Justin launched himself happily into Brian’s arms and kissed him.

“That must have been an awfully great class!” said Brian, steadying himself.

“Oh,” replied Justin. “It was! It really was!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tells his story.

Chapter 8

 

“Brian?”

Brian’s eyes opened slowly. “How many time do I have to fuck you before you’ll actually be tired enough to fall asleep?”

“Is that a rhetorical question, Brian? Or did you want to test it out?”

Brian sighed. “Jesus, I must really be getting old! Yes, it’s a rhetorical question. Now go to sleep.”

“Brian?”

“I’m listening.”

“Do you think that Al loves Wesley?”

Brian sat up slightly. “Huh? Where the fuck did THAT one come from?”

Justin hesitated. “I don’t know. I was only wondering.”

Brian scratched his head and then tried to smooth down his mop of hair. “I’m sure that Al likes Wes. He’s pretty possessive of him, but then he’s possessive of all his shit. That’s the way some jockers are. It’s territorial. Like a big dog with a bone. But love? I doubt that Al thinks in those terms. Why are you asking about this? Is Wesley picking out china patterns?”

“No, of course not!” said Justin. “I was just thinking about... us. And how we’re different from the other guys. You know – when we’re alone together. And I was thinking about... stuff.”

“Thinking about too much stuff is bad for your health, kid. For one thing, it keeps you awake. Turn over.”

Justin turned on his side, facing the wall, and Brian spooned up against him. It was cramped in the lower bunk, but when they fit themselves together like that it didn’t seem so crowded. It seemed just right.

“Brian?”

“What?”

“Have you ever said... I mean, have you ever told someone that... you loved them?” There, Justin thought, I said it. I asked it.

Brian flinched. It was like being burned with a cigarette. The pain is intense for the first few seconds, but then you stop feeling it. You’ve become so numb that even that dreadful pain passes quickly, leaving only the scar behind.

“Have you? Brian?” Justin probed. He wasn’t going to let it go.

“Maybe,” Brian whispered. “What difference does it make?”

“Maybe no difference,” Justin admitted. “Or maybe all the difference in the world.”

Justin knew that this was something hanging over the two of them. He understood that Brian loved him. Justin felt it so strongly. It was in everything that Brian did, every day, both out in the Quad and alone in their cell. But the words – those Brian couldn’t say. The words that tumbled out of Justin’s mouth so easily, so naturally, seemed impossible for his lover to speak.

“Did you... say it to Ron? Did he say it to you?” Justin rubbed his eyes. “You don’t have to answer, Brian. I know it’s none of my business. I’m just your little punk, after all.”

“No, Justin, you know that isn’t true. You’re more than a punk. That’s a fucking fiction for the benefit of everyone else in the joint. We’ve talked about that.”

“I know, Brian. That was a cheap shot. I’m sorry I brought that whole thing up.” Justin’s stomach was throbbing now. He knew that he shouldn’t push Brian, but Brian was the only thing he had. The most important thing in his life. The only thing in his life. But maybe it was too much to ask Brian to feel the same way. Too much to want Brian to have that same overwhelming need. 

“I never said anything like that to Ron,” Brian whispered. “And he certainly never said anything like that to me. Are you kidding? Saying ‘I love you’ to a guy is fag stuff. And no matter how many times he might fuck me – or how many times Al or Junior or Big John might fuck their punks or get sucked off by them, in their minds they aren’t fags. Even if they kiss them – that’s just part of fucking. It’s not love. There’s a reason why the Bros call kissing their punks ‘mugging’ them – it isn’t about love. It’s about power. It’s about getting your rocks off and your needs met. It’s not about emotion. It’s not about ‘love’ – whatever that means.”

“But you know that it means something, Brian,” said Justin. “You know that it’s something more. Even if you never said it to Ron, you must have... felt it. I know you felt it. Because he can still get you so upset. And I know when you’re thinking about him. That’s not just nothing, Brian.”

“Maybe,” Brian answered. “But that’s all in the past.”

“Why didn’t you want to see Ron on Visiting Day? He was there, waiting. He waited the whole time for you to show up.” 

“I know. You told me.” Brian breathed into the back of Justin’s shoulder. It smelled clean and salty. “But... I couldn’t. It’s too hard to explain.”

“I’m listening, Brian.”

“It’s just that... for years I was always a... a thing. That’s how I felt. I was a punk – and a punk isn’t a person. A punk is a possession. A punk is a status symbol. And that’s what I was. It wasn’t until Ron was out of here that I could see how little I really meant to him. For months he came to visit me and hardly even looked me in the eye. I handed him paperwork and we discussed cases and that was it. For 8 years I slept in this very bed with him, on this same lousy mattress, under this same thin blanket, and it was all meaningless.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what to say to you? Maybe he didn’t know how to... to tell you what he was feeling?” Justin suggested.

“What he was feeling is the same as any jock feels. That he’s a man. That he’s got power over another human being. That he can fuck you whenever he wants to – and that he can brag that he’s got the best-looking bitch in the Quad. That’s not anything about love.” Brian paused and Justin could feel his breathing shorten. “But thinking about love is fucked anyway. You can say the words and it’s still meaningless. It can still be a lie.”

Justin inhaled. The old pillow was musty and the blanket smelled like sweat. He’d have to ask Em about washing them.

“Who lied to you, Brian? Ron?”

“No, not Ron,” Brian replied. “He never made any kind of promises like that. It never would have occurred to him say such things. Maybe to his wife he did. Maybe to his clients. But there was never any reason to lie to me. What would be the point?” 

“Then who, Brian? Who was it that hurt you?”

Brian was silent for so long that Justin thought that he’d fallen asleep. Except that his breath was too ragged for sleep.

“His name was Glenn. He came on campus from outside. I guess he was what they used to call an ‘outside agitator.’ He came to Penn State to organize protests against the Vietnam War. He was about 26. Tall and good-looking. He had long dirty blond hair and a sexy, hairy body. Hairy chest and arms. Dark blond hair all over.” 

“He sounds hot.”

“He was.” Brian sighed. “I was a freshman and about as naive as anyone could be. I was at Penn State on a scholarship. Soccer and track. But I hated the whole jock mentality. I wouldn’t cut my hair, so I was always on the outs with my coaches and the other guys hated me. I was a Philosophy major and thought I was an intellectual. I didn’t want anyone to know that my family didn’t give a shit about education. I was the first one to go to college and I got nothing but shit about it. Pop called me a hippie and a long-haired faggot. Little did he know!”

“Did you know you were gay then?”

“I knew, but I’d never done anything. I was too scared. Fags were freaks. Fags were sick. Fags were illegal. I dated and screwed plenty of girls in high school and that proved I was normal, right? Until I went to an organizational meeting for the anti-war protests. The minute I saw Glenn my dick told me loud and clear that I was a fag. I couldn’t stop staring at him. And later on, back at the dorm, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

“Sounds like a bad crush, Brian.” 

“Oh, it was bad. I joined the anti-war group and they put me to work, passing out flyers and putting up posters for protests. Doing all kinds of scut work. But I also spent time lying around in Glenn’s crummy off-campus apartment, getting high and listening to music with him and the others. It was the 1960’s and everybody was fucking everybody. I made it with some of the girls hanging around, but my mind was on Glenn. Everything he said I took as the gospel truth. He’d studied Political Theory at Harvard, but he got kicked out before he took his degree. He’d organized protests all over the country. He could talk and talk and talk. He had an answer for everything and I ate it all up. I had it bad. Really, really bad. The only problem was that he was straight.”

“Was he really straight, Brian? Or was he just... like you? In denial?”

Brian shrugged. “That’s what I was hoping. Because he singled me out. Took me under his wing. Called me and did things with me. Confided in me. I was practically living at his place. Sleeping there and getting high with him. And then, one night....” Brian stopped. “We did it. We were high and everyone else was gone and then... we started fooling around. And we fucked. It blew my mind! We must have done it 3 or 4 times. I was sure that the next morning he’d tell me to get lost or pretend it never happened. But he didn’t. He told me I was... beautiful. And then we fucked again!”

“Wow,” said Justin. A knot of jealousy was forming inside him.

“Wow is right. And we kept doing it, too, regularly. It was fucking amazing to me! He told me that he loved me – and I said I loved him, too. Told him I’d do anything for him. Anything! I finally felt like I knew who I was. And I really was totally in... in love with Glenn. Totally. Which was what he had intended. Exactly what he had intended.” 

Justin shivered. “What do you mean, Brian? What he intended?”

“It was part of their plan, kid. He figured out right away that I was gay and he... he used me. They all used me. The whole group. They were planning a big ‘guerilla’ action. A break-in. They told me they were going to steal ROTC files from one of the administration buildings on campus and then burn them during a big anti-war rally that was coming up. But that’s not what was really going on. They were really planning to set explosives and blow up the building.”

Justin turned and looked at Brian. It was too dark to see his face clearly. “But why did they need you? I don’t understand.”

“They... they wanted my car. They wanted a... a distraction. A fall guy. Glenn said I’d been ‘chosen’ to drive them all to the building that night. Chosen because I was the only one he trusted. Because I was his lover. So I drove the car and sat there. They came back about an hour later. They didn’t have any ROTC records. They told me they couldn’t get them. I dropped them all off and went back to my dorm. But the big explosion was a fucking bust. Their charges started a fire that spread through the second floor and mainly caused a lot of smoke. An old man who was working as a security guard was sleeping in the basement. He inhaled some smoke and died of a heart attack.”

“Oh, no – Brian!”

“Yes. I woke up when the cops pounded on my dorm room door. Someone saw my car parked out in front of the administration building the night before and the police walked straight to me. I wasn’t trying to hide. I didn’t even know that I should be hiding! They took me into custody. Of course, by that time the rest of the group – Glenn and the real members of the cell – had gone underground. They haven’t been seen since. None of them.”

“Oh my God,” Justin breathed.

“Of course, I knew nothing. I couldn’t tell the cops a fucking thing about the break-in or the failed bombing, because everything I knew – or thought I knew– was a lie. Including Glenn’s declarations of love. They had picked me because I was naive and gullible. Glenn fucked me to make sure I’d do anything he told me to – and I did. And the cops didn’t get anything out of me except the truth. That I drove them all to the building and then drove them back. I didn’t even know Glenn’s real name. I only found that out later – at the trial.”

“Brian... I... I can’t believe it!”

“Believe it. I was charged with everything they could think of, from Arson to Conspiracy to Second-degree Murder, among others. And convicted on all counts. The prosecutors were furious that they couldn’t find the rest of the ‘gang’ – but they had me. And they had a show trial and threw the fucking book at me. My only real defense, my only excuse, was that I was so in love with Glenn that I just did what he said without knowing what was really going on. But... but my lawyers wouldn’t let me bring that up. It was never brought out in the trial because my defense team was afraid that if the jury knew I was a fucking faggot cocksucker AND a radical hippie Communist terrorist, they would want to kill me and not just put me away for life. So, my embarrassing brush with ‘true love’ was never mentioned. And I got 20 years to life. And here I am – the fucking prisoner of love. Are you happy to know it all now? Are you, Justin?”

Justin wiped away the tears in his eyes. “I... I’m so sorry, Brian. I don’t know what to say!”

“Skip it. It’s ancient history. Now that you know the whole story, you can forget about it.” Brian closed his eyes. But it still hurt. Even after all these years. “I... I still believed that it was all a mistake, right up until near the end of the trial. I still believed that... that Glenn loved me. That he hadn’t meant for me to get hurt. That... it all went wrong somehow and it wasn’t his fault. But then even I realized the truth. He set me up and he fucked me over. I was worthless to him except as a bone to throw to the cops while they all got away. And it worked like a charm. Once I understood that, I gave up. I didn’t even try to fight anymore. My parents disowned me. My friends turned their backs on me. Even my lawyers told me to shut up about the fact that I was queer. The only person who gave me a fucking break was the psychiatrist at the Processing Center in Harrisburg – you know, the Psycho Center? He suggested that I go to a medium security facility because I’d be at risk in a maximum security joint. The guy knew I’d be eaten alive in the State Pen. And so... so the first night I was here I was raped by the entire low-rider gang and taken to their tip as their prize punk. And that began my real life in Stanton – and ended my disastrous experiment in ‘love.’” 

“No, Brian,” said Justin, turning over and putting his arms around Brian. “Not ended. Believe that! You have to believe that!”

“I’m trying, kid,” Brian said. “I’m trying. But you have to give me time. A little time.”

“All the time in the world, Brian,” said Justin, meaning it with all his heart. “All the time that you need. That WE need. Right here. And that’s a start, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” whispered Brian, trying to believe. “It’s a start.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and the Juice Pig.

Chapter 9

 

Brian walked across the Yard, heading for the running track. Now that the weather was clearing he could start doing his morning run again. Running was a way of blowing off steam and also pretending, a least for a few laps, that he was somewhere else.

“Hey, Bri!”

“Oh,” Brian said, turning. “Ben.” It was Juice. That’s what all the jockers called him – but only behind his back.

“Mind if I walk with you?”

Brian shrugged. “I was just going to run. Now that we aren’t up to our asses in snow I thought I’d work some of the kinks out of my legs.”

Ben grinned. “So that’s why you’re so fast on the basketball court. You’re a fucking track star!”

“Once upon a time I was. In high school,” said Brian. “But I obviously didn’t run fast enough to get away from the cops.”

“Oh, right,” said Ben. “Ha! That’s funny.”

“Who’s joking?” Brian deadpanned.

The snow had melted, but it was still cold. Brian was wearing a pair of sweatpants that Justin had given him, two of his old tee shirts, and Justin’s St. James Academy sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was a bit small, but Brian liked wearing it. It was soft and thick and seemed permeated with the kid’s essence. It felt lucky.

“You run every day?” Ben asked. 

“I try,” said Brian. He stopped on the edge of the gravel track and stretched. “It’s pretty hard to run inside during the winter. The gym isn’t the best place to do it, but this track isn’t bad. Sometimes you just get a little stir crazy being cooped up all the time. You need to breathe some fresh air. This helps – a little.”

Ben nodded. “You’ve been in a while.”

“I guess a little birdie must have told you,” Brian sniffed.

“I was just asking around.” Ben shuffled uncomfortably. “See, I wanted to apologize if you thought I was dogging your kid. I... I wasn’t. I mean, I was interested. He’s the best looking punk in here, but you know that. Everybody knows that. But I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes. Especially yours.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Brian, bending over to check his shoes. The last thing he wanted to do was fall on his face or twist his ankle his first time out on the track. “Since Justin isn’t interested in anyone but me, you can look at him all you want – as long as you don’t try to press the issue. Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Ben replied. “But what I really wanted to do was thank you.”

Brian looked up. “Thank me? What for?”

“Emmy told me that you were the one who suggested that Michelle and I get to know each other a little better.”

“That was quick,” Brian smiled. “Poor old Dave’s only been gone two days!”

Ben winced slightly. “But he and Michelle had been pretty disconnected for a while. She told me so. Anyway, we were talking last night in the Rec Room – and then later in her cell – and I think we’re going to try hooking up.”

“Congratulations. And you want me to be the Best Man? Or the Maid of Honor?” Brian cracked.

“Neither,” Ben answered seriously. “I just wanted to thank you, like I said. I know it’s hard for a new guy to hook up with somebody, especially with somebody as great as Michelle. I guess I kind of lucked out, huh? I mean, that she likes me.”

Brian made a face. “Michelle has a thing for guys who look like her comic book heroes. In that you definitely fit the bill, Ben. But she’ll treat you right. She’s bitchy, like all queens, and she’s high maintenance, but I’m sure you won’t mind that. A little pampering should do the trick.”

“No, I won’t mind doing that. I... I like a steady relationship. It helps calm my nerves,” Ben said.

Brian looked Ben in the eye. “But one thing I want to make clear. Michelle’s a friend of mine. Yes, she’s whiny and, yes, she can be a bitch, but she’s been a good friend to me. So has Emmy and a lot of the other queens. And I don’t like to see my friends harmed in any way. I’d hate to see Michelle get hurt. Do you understand me, Ben?”

Ben frowned. “You mean... about the steroids?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Brian said. “I know you spent time in the detox in Harrisburg and I know you’re seeing the treatment counselor here and all that, but a lot of people take a lot of shit in the joint, treatment or no treatment. I’d hate for you to get juiced up and then take it out on someone who can’t fight back. Like Michelle. Get my drift?”

“I won’t, Bri. I don’t want to fuck it up with Michelle. I really like her. If we hook up I won’t screw it up. I mean that.”

“Then go for it,” said Brian. The sun was trying to come out and it was starting to feel warmer on Brian’s face. “Anything that will make you even a little happier in this lousy joint is worthwhile.”

“You’re hooked up. And you seem happy. I mean, aren’t you happier than before, when you were alone? Before you met the kid?” Ben asked.

“Yes,” Brian said, squinting up at the sun and then watching it disappear behind another cloud. “I’m happier. But... sometimes happiness doesn’t last. You have to make the most of it while you can. So don’t fuck things up.”

Ben grinned. “I won’t! Hey, I owe you, pal! I really owe you!”

Brian laughed. “And I’ll collect – when the time comes. That’s one lesson I’ve learned inside. Store up your credit and then collect when you need it most. So don’t you forget that when I need you someday, right, Juice?”

Juice – Ben – nodded and held out his right hand. “Right, Bri.”

They shook on the future and whatever it might bring. Then Ben went on his way, back to find Michelle and talk to her about celling with him. 

Brian ran his laps and tried to clear his head of the past in order to make room for a present in which he really could be happy – at least until that past finally caught up with him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin's plan.

Chapter 10

 

“I don’t know, Em,” Justin sighed. He shoved another load of underwear into the washing machine and sprinkled the soap powder on top. “I really want to have a birthday party for Brian. A real party, with cake and presents and everything! But it’s looking more and more impossible.” Justin slammed the lid on the machine and hit the button. The washer lurched and began to fill with water.

Em leaned over and gave Justin a hug. He was so cute that Em wanted to cry over his romantic frustrations. “Sunshine, I’m sure if you have a nice, private little celebration in your room, just the two of you, that will make your man as happy as a pig in mud! Bri Baby doesn’t need a fancy party. All he needs is what every man needs – a little bit of TLC!”

“But we do that every day, Em! I want Brian’s birthday to be something special. I want him to have a cake. Maybe even ice cream, too! And decorations for the Rec Room. Is that too much to ask?”

“It is in here, honey,” Emmy said sadly. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, babydoll, but where are you going to get cake and ice cream? Where are you going to get decorations? Or even wrapping paper?”

“I can make the wrapping paper myself. I’ve already started on that, using old magazines and drawing paper.”

“Well, honey, that’s a start.” Em patted Justin’s shoulder gently. “Maybe that’s all you can do for now. But that’s more of a birthday than Baby has ever had before, I can tell you THAT for certain.”

“Didn’t Ron ever... I mean, he must have celebrated Brian’s birthday some way?”

Em shook his head. “Not that I ever remember. Why should he? Around the time of Bri’s birthday last year, Ronnie was just getting ready to blow this joint. His parole was all set and he was processing to go. I’m sure that a party – or even a present – for his long-time cellmate was the furtherest thing from that man’s mind.”

“I can’t understand it, Em,” said Justin. “How could anyone live with Brian all those years and... and take him for granted like that?”

“Maybe that’s why, Sunshine. You take someone for granted because you are so used to him. He’s always there and that’s just that. But from the dish on the tier, Ronnie is tres upset that Bri wouldn’t see him last week on Visiting Day. That should make the guy stop and think.”

“I know. I was visiting with my mom and Ron sat there the whole time, waiting. You could tell he was steamed.”

Em smiled. “The Baby has grown some balls, Sunshine. And Mister Ron doesn’t like that! But I say – it’s about time! And that’s YOUR influence, honey.”

Justin blushed, but he was very pleased to hear Emmy say that. Everyone had noticed the change in Brian ever since the two of them had hooked up. Brian had always been well-liked on the tier. The men depended on his Legal Aid work and Brian was easy-going and forthright. You always knew where you stood with him. But now the jockers more than liked Brian – they accepted him. He was an important member of their b-ball team and a good guy to spot you in the gym or watch your back out on the Yard.

Justin understood that his presence as Brian’s kid was part of that transformation, but he was also aware that the status of any man in the Quad was precarious. The wrong move, the wrong word, or a challenge from another jocker that Brian couldn’t meet might send the whole house of cards tumbling to the ground.

But this birthday party – if Justin could pull it off it would be a coup. The ability to throw a party was a symbol of status. You needed planning and you needed cooperation from other inmates. But you also needed credit, which was something that Justin was lacking.

“There must be a way, Em!” said Justin.

“The only way you can get any special food, honey, is to fix it with the guys in the kitchen. And you’d have to barter with them. But you don’t have any bargaining power, Justin,” Emmy reminded the kid as he pulled his fine washables out of the machine and shook them out. “You aren’t working, so you aren’t collecting any credit at the canteen.”

“I know, Em,” Justin replied. “My mom sends money to my account every month, but it isn’t that much. When I need things, I charge them to Brian’s account.” That was one of the privileges of a punk – drawing on his jock’s canteen credit. And Brian had quite a bit saved up because he received a decent amount for his legal work – much more than Emmy got as an orderly in the Hospital or Barbie got working in the Laundry – and Brian hardly ever drew on it, except to get things for Justin.

“You could use Brian’s account for decorations. And soft drinks, too,” Em suggested.

“But I don’t want to use Brian’s own credit on his party! That would be like making him pay for his own birthday. I should be paying for it myself!” Justin plopped himself down on the wooden bench in front of the machines and rubbed his face.

“Sweetie,” Em returned. “The only thing you have of value in this joint is what you are sitting on. And you are NOT going to peddle your bubble butt in exchange for a birthday cake!”

“No, Em. I could never do that, no matter what,” Justin admitted. “But there must be something I can use for trade?”

Emmy gathered up her wash and began hanging her undies on the clothesline. She refused to put her dainties into the industrial dryers that would rip them into shreds. “If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.” 

Wesley walked in, dragging his laundry bag behind him. “Hey, Just, Em.”

“Hi, Wes,” said Justin, tossing his clothes into the dryer. “I just finished with this machine.”

“Thanks,” said Wesley, dumping all the clothing out on the dirty floor.

Em rolled her eyes. “You little straight boys have no idea how to do the wash! Have you separated your whites from your colors, honey?”

“Huh?” said Wesley, his mouth hanging open.

“Let me do it for you, sweetheart,” said Em, picking through the pile of Wesley and Al’s clothes.

“Justin, do you think I could talk to you for a minute?” asked Wesley.

“Sure. What’s up?” said Justin.

Wesley took Justin’s elbow and guided him over to the corner. “I... I wanted to thank you for not, you know, saying anything about... about me and Stormy. I mean, to Brian or anybody.”

“That’s okay, Wes. I told you I wouldn’t say anything and I won’t,” Justin assured the other kid.

“Thanks, Just.” Wesley hesitated. “I... I need to ask you for another favor. I know I don’t have anything to trade for, but... but... see, my ma... I wanted to, you know....”

Justin took a deep breath. “Wes, what do you need? Just ask me. Don’t worry about owing me anything. We’re pals, like I said. So tell me what I can do for you.”

Wesley nodded. “My ma is in Indiana. She can’t come here and see me. I... I haven’t seen her in... in almost a year. I know you draw all those pictures of Bri and everything. You even drew a picture of me and Al, remember? So I wondered if you’d draw a picture of me that I could send my ma. ’Cause she can’t come here, you know?”

Justin felt a pang. Wes was never in the Gallery on Visiting Day, but Justin had never really wondered where his family was. He’d never thought to ask and now he felt guilty about that. It made Justin wonder about the other boys he was friendly with. They rarely had any visitors, either. Maybe their families were too poor to come, or too far away, like Wesley’s mother. Or maybe there was no family to come. Justin thought about Brian’s parents and how they lived only 50 miles away and never came to see him. Never even wrote to him.

“Sure, Wes. I’ll do a great picture for your mom. My mother sent me some new sketchpads and colored pencils, so I can do a really nice portrait.” Justin smiled. Drawing was no chore at all – it was a pleasure!

“Geez, Justin, thanks!” Wesley smiled his crooked little smile. “And... and if you, you know, if you wanna... do it, that’s all I’ve got to pay for the picture. So whenever you say, it’s okay.”

Justin winced. He thought about Em telling him that the only thing he had of value was his ass. It was no different for poor Wesley. He thought about Stormy fucking Wes in the bathroom before class. Justin was pretty certain that Joey and a few of the other punks were also taking advantage of the kid whenever they had the opportunity. And Wesley was afraid to tell his jock, Al, about it. That would be snitching on another punk and everyone hated a snitch. A snitch was the lowest of the low.

“Wes, you don’t have to put out for me. I’m happy to do your picture for you. You can do something else for me sometime later, all right?”

Wesley grinned even wider. “Thanks, Just! You’re a real pal!” And then he burst into tears.

“Jesus, Wes, it’s okay!” Justin said, holding onto Wesley while he cried. Emmy, hanging up her undies in the middle of the laundry room, was pretending not to notice. So Justin just let Wes cry until he was empty.

But Justin had an idea. Justin’s ass wasn’t the only thing he had of value. Wesley obviously thought something else Justin could do was worth bargaining for. His Art. His talent. If Wes wanted a portrait made, maybe other guys would want one, too. Like the guys down in the kitchen. The guys who could make a cake for a birthday party.

Justin now had a plan. He would make this party work! Brian would have a birthday he’d never forget! That no one at Stanton would ever forget! Justin’s mind was already putting all the pieces together.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian gets a letter.

Chapter 11

 

Justin and Wesley went down together to pick up the mail for themselves and their jocks. The mailboxes for the whole wing were down on the first tier, but Justin was hoping for a package as well. He was waiting for his mother to send some of the gifts that she had promised to get Brian for his birthday. 

Emmy and Michelle had agreed to hide Brian’s presents in their cells until the day of the party. Justin had already finished making the wrapping paper. He had also arranged for a cake and soft drinks by trading his drawings with guys in the kitchen and at the canteen. 

Justin was surprised to find that most of the older men didn’t ask for portraits of themselves, as Wesley had wanted, but instead they wanted drawings of their wives, girlfriends, and children. Most of them handed over snapshots of their loved ones, which Justin quickly turned into large, full-color drawings that the men could put on their walls. 

In fact, Justin was now doing a brisk business creating pictures to order. He had even done a special comic-like portrait of Juice, decked out like a superhero in bright red tights and cape, for Michelle. She and Emmy were providing all of the decorations for the Rec Room and both of them had even managed to keep the other queens from spilling the beans about the birthday party – which was a feat in itself.

Now, he was waiting for the gifts to arrive.

Justin opened his mailbox. Letters from his mother and his grandmother, and another from one of his favorite teachers. And a long letter from his friend, Daphne. Justin loved reading Daph’s letters, but they also reminded him of what he was missing. She was in the middle of her freshman year in college, full of news about classes and boyfriends and parties. Well, thought Justin, I can write about MY classes and MY boyfriend. And also about my big party, too! 

But Daphne seemed to think that being in prison was like being away at summer camp. Justin couldn’t bring himself to tell her about what had happened to him in the small meeting room or the days he’d spent recovering in the Hospital. Or about seeing Lee’s jocker, Chuck, beating him in the corner of the Yard for some perceived indiscretion. Or about poor Wesley being picked on by the other punks. Or about seeing one of the low-riders dragged off to ‘The Hole’ by the C.O.’s for trying to stab another biker in the Chow Hall. No, he couldn’t tell Daphne or his mom or grandmother or his teacher or anyone even half of what went on inside.

Some of it he was writing down for Miss Carver. Not for the whole Creative Writing class, but just for her. He’d handed over some pages of his own along with more of Brian’s manuscript and Miss Carver had accepted the writings avidly. But even for her Justin censored himself. Some things he just couldn’t tell a woman, while others were still too raw, still too painful to recount. 

Justin unlocked Brian’s box. Two magazines – ‘The New Yorker’ and also a legal journal for the Law Library. And a thick envelope from the Prisoners’ Legal Defense – more paperwork for some of their inmate clients. And... something else.

A letter. Justin frowned. Brian had never gotten a personal letter before. But this was definitely personal. Hand written. On thick stock writing paper. And no return address.

Maybe Brian’s parents were finally writing to him? Or maybe Brian had broken down and gotten himself a pen-pal from Beemer’s list of prison groupies? Justin smelled the envelope. Beemer’s and Andy’s pen-pals always drenched their letters in Chanel #5 or Ambush or some other heavy cologne. This letter just smelled like nothing. Justin looked at it again. No, he was wrong. What it smelled like was trouble.

“Did you get your package, Just?” asked Wesley, clutching a couple of envelopes and catalogs. Al loved getting catalogs. Al never sent away for anything, but he loved looking at the catalogs and thinking about sending away for things.

But there was no package slip in Justin’s box. If he had a package, then the boys would take the slip and walk through the passageway over to the Administration Building and the main Mailroom to pick it up after it had been opened and searched for contraband.

“Nothing,” said Justin in frustration. “I can’t figure it out! My mom told me that she got my list.”

“Maybe they’re holding it for some reason? Did you ask for food or porn or something?” Wes offered.

“Of course not!” Justin insisted. “I asked for some clothes and books for Brian. And a radio. I have mine, but I want him to have his own – with headphones!” 

“Maybe one of the books is a problem?” Wesley suggested.

“No, there was nothing dirty or subversive on the list! Unless you think that F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jack Kerouac are dirty and subversive?”

Wes made a face. “I don’t know. I never heard of either of them!”

“Come on. Let’s go back.”

The boys walked back up to the third tier. Brian was lying on his bunk, reading through some legal paperwork for a guy in the South Wing who was trying to get an appeal going.

“Brian, this is for you,” said Justin, handing him the letter. 

“For me?” Brian sat up and took it in his hand. “Are you sure?”

Brian stared at the envelope and then opened it slowly, as if expecting it to explode in his hands. Then he began reading. He lay back on the pillow and read the letter with his teeth clenched.

Justin tried not to keep watching him, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Brian and his letter. He tried tidying up the cell, putting away some of his art supplies and folding some pants and tee shirts.

Finally, Justin had to get out of the room, so he walked down to the Rec Room. Joey was in there, reading a comic book, so Justin sat down and shot the breeze with him for a while.

“Justin?” He looked up to see Brian standing in the doorway. “I’m going up to the Gym. I’ll be back before head count.”

Justin returned to the cell immediately. He knew that the letter was there, somewhere, so he began searching, methodically. He checked under the mattresses and on the shelves, between the piles of clothing, then he hunted among Brian’s books. Justin finally found the letter, missing its envelope, tucked between the pages of Brian’s worn paperback copy of ‘The Olympian.’ 

Justin held the letter in his hand. He knew that he shouldn’t read it, but he had to. He needed to!

Justin unfolded the pages.

“Baby,” it began....


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin reads the letter.

Chapter 12

 

“Baby –

I waited for a full hour in the Visitors’ Gallery, hoping that you would show up. I couldn’t make myself believe that you wouldn’t come, knowing that I was sitting there! And you DID know I was there! I’m always there, Baby! You know that nothing could keep me away!

I don’t understand why, all of a sudden, you have changed so much! I can’t believe that your feelings have changed. I DON’T believe it! I think you’re angry with me for blowing up at you the last time was there. I’m sorry about that. I should have written to you right away. I’m an idiot for not doing it then. I didn’t mean to blow up at you, Baby. I didn’t want to get angry, but you shocked me with that story about hooking up with the kid. That was the last thing expected! You can’t blame me for feeling upset. Everything is just fine and then you blind-side me with something like that. How was I supposed to take it? You knew I’d be hurt – but you acted like that didn’t make any difference to you! Like how I feel doesn’t even matter!

For 9 years you make me think that you care about me – and then you take up with some new punk you’re known for about a week? I understand that it’s nothing but sex, but it’s still a kick in the teeth! Especially when you now refuse to come down and see me! I sat there for a fucking hour! I didn’t come to talk about any cases – screw the cases! I came to see YOU – that’s always why I come! You KNOW that! Maybe I don’t say it out loud, but I don't HAVE to say it out loud. You KNOW, Baby! You KNOW!

And now you’re trying to punish me. That’s it, isn’t it? Just trying to make me sweat, just because you CAN! Well, OK – I’m sweating! I’m upset! Does that make you happy, Baby? Does it? 

I’ve done nothing but fight with Jane since I got back from Visiting Day. She knows I’m upset and I’m sure she knows why, although she would never admit that she even knows about you. So I’m getting the cold shoulder at home. She’s so jealous of you that it isn’t even funny. Does that make you happy to hear? Does that make you feel powerful, Baby? So I can’t concentrate at the office and I don’t have any peace at home – all because YOU are being so pig-headed! I know you are a stubborn Mick and all that, but have a heart! Give me a fucking break, Baby! Why are you doing this to me?

I know you don’t really mean to ignore me and that when you get over being in a pissy mood that you’ll tell me you’re sorry and everything with be OK again. I’ll be there next month – of course! – on Visiting Day. I have it circled on my calendar. I also know your birthday is coming up. I have THAT circled, too – of course! – so tell me what you would like. All you ever have to do is ask for something and I’ll bring it to you. Haven’t I always made sure that you had what you needed? Your parents didn’t give a damn and sent you nothing, but I ALWAYS shared ALL my stuff with you. Anything I had was also yours. Maybe you are forgetting that now that I’m not there every day. It’s easy to forget, right? Out of sight, out of mind, right? I hope you liked the cookies. I’ll bring more next time.

Remember what I told you a few months ago about the Family Visit arrangements? I’ve filed about it again AND I’ve written to Horvath about the unfairness of the situation. I think I am making good progress there. Horvath and the prison administration don’t want to look as if they are punishing you or discriminating against you because you are estranged from your biological family when you have been an exemplary inmate for so many years. The unfairness of the situation is obvious and Julie thinks that I can make the argument stick on those grounds. 

I TOLD you before I was paroled that I WOULD get a Family Visit – and I expect to! Maybe even in the next month! You’ll see! It WILL happen! Maybe you’re angry because you’re frustrated. Well, so am I! But that doesn’t mean that I am giving up! I never give up! You know that very well. And when it happens I know that it will make you as happy as it will make me! 

Please write to me soon and I’ll write again, too. I should have been writing to you regularly all along, but things have been so hectic since I got out, between work and family stuff. I know you understand. And since I saw you every month – and NEVER missed a Visiting Day! – I thought that was enough. But it wasn’t enough to keep the lines of communication open. I know that now. Please keep them open from now on! Don’t close yourself off from me! Don’t shut me out, Baby! Don’t!!!! 

Write back the MINUTE you get this! I’ll be waiting, Baby.

Love – Ron.”

Justin read the letter. And then he read it again. He didn’t know what to think. He’d never spoken to Ron in his life and only seen him twice from far away, but his words hit Justin like a truck hits you going 60 MPH. 

What had Brian thought, reading this? What did he feel? Justin wanted to run up to the Gym and talk to Brian. Ask him what the letter meant to him. Ask him what Ron meant to him!

Justin folded the sheets, shoved them between the pages the paperback, and put it back on the shelf. Then he went out and walked two doors down.

“Andy? Can I ask you a question?”

Brian’s ex-cellie was lying on his bunk, reading a letter from one of his pen-pals. Justin could tell from the pink smelly paper. 

“Sure, kid? What’s up?” Andy set the letter aside and sat up.

“Tell me what you know about Family Visits.”

Andy laughed. “Ask Beemer about that! The last time he had one of those, with his wife about a year and a half ago, she was his EX-wife about a month later! Why do you ask, kid?”

“Oh, my mom mentioned something about it in her last letter.” Which was true. Jennifer had mentioned requesting one. “And I wanted to know more about it.”

“Well,” said Andy. “You know those trailers outside the Administration Building? That’s where they have them. For you, it would be your mom and your dad and whoever else in your family and they’d come and stay with you in the trailer. There’s beds in there and a little kitchen and a TV and, well, I guess you’d visit with your family. Your mom can bring food and cook for you and you can watch TV and whatever. That’s a Family Visit.”

Justin swallowed. “But what about, like, older guys? I’m sure their mothers don’t come and stay with them.”

Andy shrugged. “They could. But for most of the guys a Family Visit is a ‘Conjugal.’ That means 48 hours of straight fucking! Forget the food and watching TV!” Andy started cackling. “Those trailers do nothing but bounce up and down the whole time! But you don’t have to worry about THAT, kid! Unless your parents decide to get it on while they’re visiting you!”

“That’s gross, Andy,” said Justin. He wasn’t smiling.

“Sorry, kid.”

Justin took a deep breath. “Would they allow a guy to visit another guy? Like for a ‘Conjugal’?”

Andy frowned. “No fucking way! Then they’d have to let girlfriends visit. It’s gotta be family or you gotta be married. But two guys? Forget it! That would seem like the prison administration was approving faggots and they’ll never do that! It’s one thing to look the other way when it comes to jockers and punks, but real fags? That’s where they draw the line. Why are you asking, kid?”

“I’m just curious, that’s all,” said Justin. 

So, Ron’s hope for a Family Visit didn’t seem very likely. Unless... unless he had some kind of angle. Brian was always saying that Ron was a genius for finding a new angle. That’s what had made him such a successful lawyer – and such a successful scam artist. Until Ron got careless and ended up in Stanton.

Now Justin had a headache. He went back to the cell and got out his sketchpad. He had to finish a portrait for a guy down in the canteen who was providing some of the snacks for the party, but his head was throbbing and he couldn’t concentrate. Justin put the drawing aside and lay back down on the bunk, waiting for Brian to come back from the Gym.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback to 1969.

Chapter 13

 

1969

 

Baby didn’t know what day it was and she didn’t care. What difference did it make? Every day she was alive was just another day of failure. But she’d get another chance. Someday. Cisco would leave his belt behind, or he’d leave the cell door open and she could get to the edge of the stairwell, or else she’d get hold of his razor or... something. Someday. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. What difference did it make? None.

Since they had sent her back to the tier from the Hospital, Baby had barely left the cell. She mainly lay on her bunk, sniffing and rubbing her burning eyes, climbing down only to piss or take a drink of water from the sink. 

The low-riders, and especially Cisco, ignored her. Once Cisco had come into the cell and found her washing her face in the sink. He’d kicked her out of the way, cursing. He was angry that she’d fucked herself up! No one wanted to deal with a fucking psycho! No one wanted her in their cell because there was no telling what a crazy bitch would do. She might take a bite out of their dicks or attack them or try to off herself right there. Yeah, Baby was nuts, so fucking forget it, man! No thanks! Cisco couldn’t even peddle her ass at half the going rate. 

Baby was hurting and Baby was hungry. She was whining for some shit, but Cisco wasn’t about to waste good dope on her. The docs had cleaned her out in the Hospital, so there was no need to get her started up again, especially if he was thinking of getting rid of her. If somebody else wanted to supply her with smack, fine. Then it wouldn’t be Cisco’s fucking problem! No, not anymore! If Baby was hurting, then let her hurt. Fuck YOU, Baby!

Baby heard the low-riders arguing. Maybe it would be better to get rid of her and cut their losses. If another gang would take her off their hands, then the bad karma would be on their heads when she offed herself. Because the low-riders had no doubt that she’d try it again. She was a psycho bitch and that’s what psycho bitches did. They messed themselves up. Or maybe they should keep her and see if she got better. She was still a sweet piece of ass. Even fucked up, she was still the best looking punk the bikers had. On a good day she was the best looking punk in the whole Quad! Fuck, that’s why they’d taken her in the first place!

Except she wasn’t getting better. She was just lying around, taking up space. Even Cisco didn’t trust her alone in the cell. It was a fucking pain having somebody watching her all the time. If she tried to off herself again, that would be even worse karma than before, man! Shit! 

But who was gonna buy her? The Bros? They didn’t want any part of some crazy white bitch. And the Latinos – they were superstitious, too. And Baby had a black cloud hanging over her. She was bad luck, brother, any way you looked at it.

The low-riders were divided, but in the end Cisco made the final decision. He didn’t want Baby in the tip anymore. They were losing money every day that she wasn’t bringing something in. And the dope pipeline was fucked up. The bikers were hurting because both of their main sources of income were drying up.

Even if they couldn’t get much for Baby at auction, at least she wouldn’t be their problem anymore. She’d be some other bastard’s headache!

“But what if nobody bites?” asked Speed. “Who’s gonna want to buy a fucking time bomb?”

Cisco shrugged. “If nobody buys, we’ll toss her into the Yard. Then she’ll be the C.O.’s pain in the ass.”

Baby blinked. Baby was afraid. The low-riders were bad, but there were worse people in the Quad. Baby knew there were. She had been in their cells. Been at their mercy. Yes, worse people. Baby hid her face in the dirty pillow and pretended that she didn’t exist.

Cisco put the word around about the auction. He didn’t try to sugarcoat it because everybody knew that Baby was a fucking psycho who would probably jump off the tier the first chance she got. 

“But what the fuck?” Cisco urged some of his best customers – the ones who had used Baby’s services in the past. “Use the bitch up! Come on, man!”

But the possible buyers were balking. On the day of the auction the low-riders took over the Rec Room on their tier in the South Wing. A couple of their other punks tried to make Baby look presentable, washing her up and putting a clean pair of workpants and her own chambray shirt on her. Speed’s punk even combed Baby’s long chestnut hair. But nothing could hide the bruises or put any life in her red-rimmed green eyes.

Cisco dragged her out of the cell and into the Rec Room. A lot of guys were crowded in there, but few of them were serious bidders, especially after getting a good look at Baby in the stark light of day. She was thin and frail, her long arms and legs like sticks, and she had a feverish flush on her pale skin. She looked like she could hardly even stand up. Who the fuck wanted a punk like that? She couldn’t clean up your cell or do the wash or do much of anything except just lie there on the bunk. And who even wanted to fuck a punk like that? It was creepy.

Baby stared at the men and started shaking. She was terrified to leave the bikers’ tip. Better the Hell you know than the Hell you don’t know. She covered her face with her hands and cowered on the floor of the Rec Room while Cisco harangued the on-lookers, trying to talk up the bidders.

“All right, I think I’ve heard enough of this,” said Ron Rosenblum, elbowing his way to the front.

“We’re just having a little auction here, Counselor,” said Cisco.

“Yes, I know,” Ron replied. “I’m here to put an end to it.” 

“Huh?” said Cisco, frowning.

Ron took out a notebook and consulted it. “It seems that you and your group owe me a large chunk of credit for my legal services. Mr. Hansen’s Parole Board preparation alone took up quite a bit of my time and expertise, not to mention other pending cases that your men have, Mr. Hunt,” Ron said to Cisco. Ron snapped his notebook closed. “I’m here to collect on your debt.”

“Uh, but we’re a little short right now, Counselor,” said Cisco. “I think I explained that to you. But we should be rolling in shit in a couple of weeks – guaranteed! And then we’ll more than make it worth your while, won’t we, boys?” And all the low-riders nodded.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve come to collect right now.” Ron paused. “I’ll take the punk that you’re offering. Then we’ll call it even.”

Cisco gaped at the lawyer. “You... you want Baby? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, Mr. Hunt. If there are no counter-offers on the table, I’ll take him immediately.” Ron looked around. “Are there any other bids? Anyone else want to challenge me for ownership?”

A couple of the men who had been thinking that they might get the punk for a song backed off. Mister R’s legal services didn’t come cheap and they all knew that he’d done a lot of work for the low-riders. None of them wanted to spend the amount that it would take to top Rosenblum’s bid just to buy a punk that was liable to off herself the next time she freaked out.

Cisco was still suspicious. “Are you sure about this, Counselor? You’ve never handled a punk before – and Baby is a tough one. She needs a firm hand. I don’t know if you’re up to it.”

“Oh, I can see the results of your firm hand, Mr. Hunt,” Ron retorted, noting the bruises and Baby’s general condition. “I’ll take my chances. If it doesn’t work out, then you haven’t lost anything.”

“No returns, Mister R. You take the merchandise as is, get it?” Cisco warned.

“I understand, Mr. Hunt. The minute I take custody of Baby, we are square. Any debt you incur after this moment will be part of a new obligation. Are we clear on that?”

“I guess so,” said Cisco.

“Please hand over Baby’s gear so I can take it with me,” said Ron. His eyes were on the punk, who hadn’t once looked up at him.

Cisco snorted. “There is no gear. What she’s wearing is it. You want her, you gotta get shit for her. Like I said – she sells as is.”

“Very well, gentlemen,” said Ron, holding out his hand to the leader of the bikers. Cisco took it and shook on the deal. “Thank you and good day.”

Ron went over and tapped Baby on the shoulder gently. “Come on. Get up.”

“No!” Baby wailed. She was terrified to leave. She didn’t know where she was going or what was going to happen to her.

“Move it, bitch!” said Cisco, giving her a hard kick.

“Excuse me, but that’s my property,” said Ron, his voice low and cautioning. “Don’t touch it again under any circumstances.” 

Ron grasped Baby’s arm and slowly pulled him to his feet. 

Baby felt unsteady. Baby remembered this man. The East Wing. The cookies. He knew who she was. This man knew! Baby stared directly at the man. What did he want? What was he going to do with her?

“Come on, Baby,” Ron said. “We’re going home now.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer on the edge.

Chapter 14

 

March 1978

 

“Craig, I think we need to talk about this Family Visit thing,” said Jennifer.

“I already told you, Jen. I’m not going.” Craig put his newspaper in front of his face. The last thing he wanted to do was meet his wife’s eyes.

“Craig, this is our son I’m talking about. OUR child!” Jennifer answered, trying to keep her voice even. “This is an opportunity for us to spend time with Justin. We can have a 48 hour visit. I can bring food and we can have dinner together – like a family! Please, Craig!”

Craig Taylor threw his paper aside and stood up. He was tired of being badgered by Jennifer about Justin. Sick of having her constantly laying on the guilt about the fact that he didn’t want to drive for an hour to go to some prison and see his son there. Inside it. A convict. HIS son! There was no way! Justin had made his bed, now he was going to have to lie in it!

“Craig! Please discuss this with me! This is about our family!” Jennifer begged.

“I don’t want to hear another word, Jen!” Craig shouted. “Forget it! If you want to go and sit in some room in jail and cook TV dinners for your son, then do it. But don’t expect ME to go along with it. And you aren’t taking Molly there, either! So don’t even consider it for a second!”

“It isn’t a room in jail, Craig. It’s a trailer on the prison grounds. It’s... it’s just like a motel room. But that doesn’t matter as long as we can spend time with Justin.” Jennifer wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Doesn’t that matter to you anymore? Doesn’t Justin matter? You... you used to be so proud of him when he... he was an Honor student. When he won awards for his art. When he was accepted into the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art. I thought you were so proud of him then?”

“I was, Jen,” said Craig, his face strained. “But things are different now. I can’t forget what he did.”

“He made a mistake! Any kid can make a mistake! But he’s still our son, no matter what he’s done! I love him just the same, Craig? Don’t you? Or did you only love him because he was a ‘perfect’ reflection of YOU? Not a person, but a THING to boost your ego? Is that it, Craig?” 

Jennifer felt her face getting red, the way it always did when she was angry. Just the way Justin’s did, too. Her son. “And now that Justin is paying for his mistake, he’s an embarrassment, isn’t that right, Craig? You are ashamed to face your ‘buddies’ at the country club and your colleagues at the office because you have a son who is in prison. Isn’t that it, Craig?”

“You have no idea how I feel, Jen!” Craig snapped. “And if YOU want to pamper Justin with special food and homey little visits and buying crap and sending it to him so he’ll have all kinds of luxuries in jail, then be my guest!”

“Luxuries? You think that sending Justin socks and batteries for his radio and books so that he can try to keep up his studies and art supplies so he won’t waste his talent – you call those luxuries?” Jennifer couldn’t believe her husband. He was like a man she didn’t even know. “Our son is locked in a... a tiny cell! Do you understand that, Craig? Do you know – or care? – that his cellmate is... is a convicted murderer? Do you? Answer me, Craig!”

But Craig still wouldn’t look her in the eye. “You may have mentioned it. But I’m sure he’s safe enough. It’s only a medium security prison. His lawyer said Justin was in no danger there.”

Jennifer swallowed. “No danger? That’s what Justin’s lousy lawyer told you? No danger? Well, let me tell YOU something, Craig Taylor. Justin’s cellmate isn’t merely a convicted murderer, among the other things he’s in prison for. No that isn’t all! He’s also Justin lover, Craig. Do you hear me? Justin is having a relationship with this man. Having SEX with this man! Does that mean nothing to you? Nothing at all?”

“You’re hysterical, Jen,” Craig scoffed. “You’ve been listening to too many stories from those other women who go to that prison. Like that crazy Mrs. Novotny. I wouldn’t believe anything she tells you!” 

Jennifer’s face was set and her heart felt like lead. “It wasn’t Mrs. Novotny who told me that, Craig. It was Justin himself. He told me that he loves this man. This Brian! That when he gets out of prison that they want to be together! That’s what prison has done to him, Craig! And if WE don’t do something to counteract this man’s influence, then... then I’m afraid for Justin! Afraid of what he might become!”

Craig stared at his wife coldly. “If he’s a goddamn queer, then prison is where he belongs, Jenn, with all the other perverts. And if Justin is a fag when he comes out of jail, then he isn’t returning to this house and that’s final. I don’t care where he goes or what he does, but he’s not coming back here. I don’t want him around me – or around Molly.” Craig paused. “And YOU can do whatever the hell you want!”

Craig stalked out of the room and went upstairs. Jennifer sat down on the sofa. She was shaking. She didn’t know what to do anymore. It was as if she were being forced to chose between her son and her husband and it was tearing Jennifer in two.

She took a deep breath. And then she picked up the telephone.

“Hello?” Jennifer said, when a woman answered. “May I speak to Mr. Rosenblum, please?”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie Night.

Chapter 15

 

Justin looked forward to Movie Night. Brian facetiously called it ‘Date Night,’ but Justin didn’t care. He loved the popcorn, and the queens parading in their best gear, and he especially loved the old movies that they showed. 

He’d never really watched old black and white films when they came on television, but it seemed different now. Seeing those classic pictures on a large screen, sitting in his seat, practically wrapped around Brian, felt so romantic. And Justin was also seeing many of the old stars for the first time. The Marx Brothers, Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, Carole Lombard, Marlon Brando, Marilyn Monroe – Justin watched them all avidly. They seemed so much more beautiful and magical than movie stars today. Their faces glowed on the screen as Justin stared up at them, his mouth open.

“Christ! You’re becoming a real little movie queen!” Brian teased. “You and Em can sit around and swoon over Clark Gable and Greta Garbo all day!”

“I really like the old films, Brian,” Justin defended. “I can’t help it! The people just look so... so glamorous!”

Brian rolled his eyes. But then they showed up for the latest Movie Night. Michelle was there, hanging all over her new jocker, Juice, and Emmy had a new baby blue sweater that she was flaunting in the face of her rival, Loretta. Brian and Justin sat down next to Wesley and Al, and the two boys whispered about their classes while they waited for the film to start.

But when it began, it was Brian who sat up straight in his seat and hushed Justin when he started to ask a question. Because the movie for that night was ‘Rebel Without a Cause’ starring James Dean. Which was Brian’s favorite film of all time.

Justin observed Brian watching the film and his lover’s reaction to it fascinated him. Brian seemed transfixed by the image of James Dean, in his blue jeans, white tee shirt, and red windbreaker, his face strained and his eyes haunted. Dean played a tortured teenager who no one understood except a troubled girl and an even more troubled – and obviously gay – boy.

Justin stared as Brian mouthed the dialogue along with Dean. “You’re tearing me apart!” he cried as his parents argued and ignored their son’s psychic pain. And Brian clutched Justin’s arm as the boy, Plato, was shot dead and Dean zipped up his red windbreaker. “He was always cold,” he said as the film ended. 

Justin wasn’t expecting that sad ending. Wasn’t expecting the gay boy to be lying dead in the final scene. But even more unexpected was the very existence of the gay boy, so nakedly in love with Dean’s character, in such an old movie. Justin couldn’t remember any gay characters in any old movies, except for a few silly sissies for comic relief. But no one like the doe-eyed Plato, who couldn’t stop touching James Dean.

“Who is that, Brian? That actor?” 

“Sal Mineo,” said Brian, after the lights went back on. “He was a fag in real life, too. He’s dead now. Someone killed him.”

Justin cringed. “For being a queer?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He was killed on the street. No one knows why. But he’s dead. Just like poor Plato. Just like James Dean himself. He was a queer, too.” Brian shook his head. “But Dean died before this movie was even released. Crashed his car. And that was that.”

“James Dean was... beautiful, Brian,” Justin said hesitantly. He could tell that the film had upset Brian for some reason. “So was Plato.”

“I know. They were both beautiful. And they both died young. Beautiful things should always die young, Justin. Before they have a chance to be destroyed.” 

Brian sat and stared into space for a long time, until finally Justin gently tugged at his arm. Brian did that occasionally – just sat and zoned out, as if he were looking into another place that no one else could see. Justin longed to be able to see into that place, too. To be there with Brian. Just the two of them, together.

They walked back up to the third tier. It really was Date Night. All the jockers were anxious to get back to their cells for a Friday night fuck, so men were hustling their punks along, quickly passing Brian and Justin, who were moving slowly, thoughtfully.

“I liked the movie,” said Justin. “Even though it was sad.”

“It wasn’t sad,” said Brian. “It was true. Something that’s true isn’t either sad or happy, isn’t good or bad. It just IS.”

Justin smiled. “Is that something you learned when you were a Philosophy major, Brian?” Justin had taken a couple of books on Philosophy out of the prison library. He wanted to see what about the subject had so interested Brian. But it seemed boring to Justin. Except the chapters on Aesthetics.

“No, I learned that from experience,” he replied. “Do you ever wonder about... about Fate, Justin?”

“I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “I never really thought about it. What about Fate?”

Brian closed his eyes. “Like maybe you were meant to be in a certain place, at a certain time, but you didn’t know why. And maybe you had to live through something horrible in order to find something beautiful later on?”

Justin shivered. “Yes, I can believe something like that.” Justin thought about Brian’s life in Stanton and what he had lived through – only to be there when Justin needed him. To be able to share their common experience and help Justin survive it. And to be with him now, against all possible expectations. To find love in such a place as Stanton Correctional. “Yes, I think Fate could work that way.”

Brian put his arm around Justin as he opened the door to their cell. Lockdown was always later on Friday night because of the movie, but it was already beginning to get quiet on the tier as the men settled down.

Justin turned on his little transistor radio, very softly. If the C.O.’s thought it was too loud they might confiscate it, so Justin set it very low and leaned it on the shelf next to the bunk so they could hear it in bed.

They undressed without turning on a light in the cell. Even when lights-out came there were still the floodlights from the Yard and the tier lights to cast a slight glow on the small space. 

Brian stretched out on the bunk and Justin climbed on top of him, face to face. Justin always liked to begin that way, covering Brian like a blanket, rubbing his young, pale body up and down against the man. Justin’s ivory skin was iridescent in the darkness. Brian put his strong hands on Justin’s round bottom and stroked it gently, but relentlessly. Kissed his soft face in the dark. Let Justin move his body as he pleased, burying himself in Brian’s hard surfaces until the two melted together, merged, and then carefully, lingeringly, came apart again.

And then once more. And then again, even more slowly. 

There was no hurry at all. In fact, it seemed as if they had all the time in the world.

Neither sad nor happy. Neither good nor bad. Just true. It seemed that way. For that brief, brief moment.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian sees a ghost from the past.

Chapter 16

 

“So,” said Juice as he and Brian strolled out on the Yard on Sunday afternoon to shoot some hoops. “What time does the big birthday party start tomorrow night?”

“Keep your voice down!” Brian laughed. “I’m not supposed to know about it, remember?”

“Oops,” said Juice. “I forgot. But Michelle has been running around like a chicken with her fucking head cut off, making decorations and whispering with Emmy and Barbie and the other queens. It’s hard to keep pretending that I don’t know what’s going on.”

Brian shook his head. “Queens always assume that guys are idiots and don’t notice shit like that. So it’s best to play along.” Brian bounced the ball a few times, testing it out, as they walked. “I guess I should have put a stop to the whole thing, but Justin is so excited about planning the party and keeping everything a secret, that I didn’t have the heart. Justin and Emmy and Michelle are down in the kitchen right now, haranguing the cooks. He told me that he couldn’t come out to the Yard with me this afternoon because he had to ‘study’!”

All the jockers had gone out of their way to inform Brian about his punk’s ‘secret’ preparations for Brian’s 30th birthday party. But Brian told them that he was well aware of it and asked them all to clam up about it. Let the kid make his plans, if that made him happy. And Brian kept away from the cell when he knew that Justin and the girls were confabbing about the details, not wanting to spoil the big surprise.

Actually, it would be interesting to see what the kid could accomplish. He’d certainly gotten all the queens in the East Wing involved, and most of the punks, too. Justin was smart and he was organized and people listened to him. Brian had to smile. If Justin were a little older and if he wasn’t a punk, he’d be running this prison in a couple of years! 

Brian thought about Ron, with all of his machinations and deals, his bargaining and his demands. Yes, Brian had seen just how someone with a brain and the will to make the most of his environment could actually succeed in prison and beat the System – at least somewhat. Maybe that’s why Ron seemed so frustrated now that he was outside. In Stanton, Ron had been a power. He used his Legal Aid office – with the back-up of the Prisoners’ Legal Defense – to control the Fates of prisoners, to pressure Warden Horvath, and even to challenge the entire authority of the penal system in Pennsylvania. In prison, Ron was a man of be reckoned with – and he did it all without using violence. 

But to most people in the real world Ron was nothing but an ex-con. He was continuing his work for legal reforms and prisoners’ rights with the PLD, but now Ron was one of many. That must be intensely galling to a man who liked to be on top – both figuratively and literally. And Brian’s refusal to see Ron or call him or answer his letters was undoubtedly adding to the man’s frustration.

“So, how are things going between you and Michelle?” Brian asked, as he and Juice waited for their turn at the basketball court. It was a beautiful early April day and Brian was feeling good. 

Brian smiled to himself when he thought about waking Justin up a little over a week before and telling him, “I want you to move out today. I’ve finally decided to hook up with Emmy instead of you.” The look on Justin’s face was priceless – fear, anger, denial, despair, all at the same time. Until Brian added, “April Fool!” And then he had to make it up to the kid right then and there!

“Things are going great!” said Juice, as he walked up to the free throw line and took a shot. “Michelle couldn’t be sweeter!”

Brian took his shot, too. “I’m glad. I think you two are suited to each other.”

“I was wondering,” asked Juice. “Michelle and Emmy spend a lot of time together. So how come Em isn’t hooked up with anybody? Most of the queens are.”

Brian took another shot. It ringed the rim of the hoop and went in. “Em was hooked up with a guy named Floyd. But he was a bastard. He used to rough Emmy up quite a bit... until....” Brian shrugged.

“Until what?” said Juice, taking the ball in his large hands.

“Until my cellmate and I cornered him one day,” Brian said. “Floyd had been in trouble before and Ron warned him that if he didn’t lay off Em then it wouldn’t be too pleasant for him. The guy was pissed off, but he did quit hitting Em – at least in front of anyone. Not long after that he got into a scuffle with a guard. Ron and I went to Horvath and suggested that Floyd might be better off at another facility. He was transferred and Emmy was actually very relieved that he was gone. So Em isn’t in a big hurry to hook up again. I think she likes her independence too much.”

Juice frowned. “I heard that she’s turning tricks.”

“Sometimes,” Brian admitted. “For cigarettes and other swag. But that’s Emmy’s choice. No one’s forcing her. Not like some of the punks around here, mainly in the South Wing.”

“I heard that Big Chuck is making his punk trick.”

“Yeah, little Lee. He’s in Justin’s classes. Chuck lost a lot of credit on football last fall and he’s got to pay up, so he’s using Lee to make up some of the difference. Poor kid.”

“That’s tough.”

Brian’s face was grim. “You don’t know the half of it. Guys who pimp out their punks are the lowest of the low in my book. I’ve got no use for them at all.” Brian tossed the ball one-handed. It went right in.

“Hey, you’ve been practicing, Bri!” said Juice.

“Nothing to it,” Brian laughed, spinning the ball.

Brian and Juice walked off the court and headed for the snackbar to get something to drink. A small knot of low-riders were loitering near the softball diamond. Brian’s radar always went into alert whenever he got too close to the bikers. He noted that Hoss and Elvis were laughing it up with some new guy Brian didn’t recognize. A hulking low-rider with a large beer-gut and long stringy hair that was thinning on the top. Suddenly he turned around and looked in Brian’s direction.

Brian stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s up?” asked Juice. But Brian didn’t answer. He was just staring. “Hey, Bri? What’s the matter?”

Brian blinked. “Nothing, Juice. Let’s get that drink.” He began heading quickly for the snackbar and Juice had to hustle to catch up with him.

Shit, thought Brian. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He never thought he’d see that face again. Prayed that he’d never see it again as long as he lived. The man was older, grayer, and out of shape, but he was also unmistakable. And now it was only a matter of time until he recognized Brian. Until Cisco realized that his old punk, Baby, was still in the Quad.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin takes action.

Chapter 17

 

“Emmy! What am I going to do if Brian’s presents don’t come before the party tonight?” Justin wailed.

Justin and Em had been down in the kitchen first thing that Monday morning, checking on the arrangements for the cake, ice cream, and other treats for Brian’s birthday. Everything seemed to be in order, with the guys preparing the food promising a first rate spread.

Em put her arms around the boy. “Honey, then you’ll just go ahead with a nice, bright smile on your sweet face in front of all your guests. I’m sure that Bri won’t even notice that anything is missing. Why, he’ll be so surprised by the party that he’ll want to grab you up in his arms and – um – kiss your brains out right there in the Rec Room!”

“But I want those presents!” Justin pouted. They stopped by the mailboxes. Justin unlocked his box and pulled out a letter from a teacher and a postcard from Daphne on Spring Break. But no package slip. “Damn it!” Justin felt like crying.

“Honey, did you call your mom about it?” asked Em.

“The last time I called the house my father answered. He acted like he hardly even knew who I was,” Justin said quietly.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” said Em.

Justin unlocked Brian’s box. Another big envelope from the PLD, another copy of ‘The New Yorker,’ and some other junk mail. And a package slip.

“Hey,” said Justin. “This is weird. Brian never gets packages.”

“Maybe it’s more paperwork that wouldn’t fit into the box?” suggested Em. 

“Maybe,” said Justin. “Let’s go over and get it.”

Justin and Em walked through the passageway to the Administration Building and the Mailroom. Emmy waved to a couple of the guys working there, while Justin handed over the slip. The clerk returned with a large box. Like all packages, it had already been opened and searched for contraband.

Justin looked at the return address. “It’s from Ron!” he said, looking up at Em.

“Happy birthday, Baby!” said Emmy sourly. “I wonder what brought Ron to finally send a birthday present? I guess Brian ignoring him is finally paying off!”

Justin knew that he shouldn’t look inside the box, but he couldn’t help it. He’d already read Ron’s letter to Brian, so what difference would it make if he took a peek at the contents of the box? 

Justin and Em carried the package back to Emmy’s cell and locked the door behind them so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Justin opened the flaps. There was a bright blue envelope on the top. Obviously a birthday card for Brian. Justin set it aside. Then he began pawing through the box. A new red sweater. A pair of black and white Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers. Some more wifebeater tee shirts, in black. A pair of green gym shorts. Sweatpants and matching sweatshirt. A portable radio with headphones. And paperback books – Jack Kerouac’s ‘The Subterraneans,’ F. Scott Fitzgerald’s ‘Tender Is the Night,’ Kurt Vonnegut’s ‘Slaughterhouse Five,’ Mary Renault’s ‘The Persian Boy,’ and Joseph Heller’s ‘Catch-22.’

Justin sat on the floor of Emmy’s cell, gaping at the items. “This is everything, Em! Everything on my list. It’s all here!”

Em frowned. “But how did Ron get your list, hon? I don’t understand!”

“Neither do I,” Justin replied. “I gave that list to my mother and nobody else knew what was on it. Brian didn’t know anything about it. He couldn’t have told Ron! He couldn’t have asked for all these things! I was even specific about the color of the sweater. And that I wanted the tee shirts in black! And all these books! These exact books!”

Em made a face. “The only possible answer is that Mister R. got hold of your list and appropriated it for himself.”

“Why would he do that, Em?” But Justin already knew the answer. 

Emmy picked up the sweater and checked the label. It was a nice blend for spring. “What are you going to do, honey?” 

Justin set his jaw. “Beat Ron at his own game, that’s what. Get the wrapping paper, Em.”

“But what happens when Ron asks Brian if he got all the presents he sent him?”

Justin snorted. “Screw that! I’ll worry about it when – and if – it happens! But these are MY presents! From MY list! And I’m taking them!”

“That’s the spirit, sweetie!” Emmy encouraged. “Let’s do it!”

And Justin and Emmy set themselves to the task of wrapping Brian’s presents so they would be ready for that night’s surprise birthday party.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encounter in the Chow Hall.

Chapter 18

 

Brian met Justin outside the Chow Hall and they went into lunch together. 

Justin was grinning like the cat who ate the canary and Brian pretended that he didn’t notice. Obviously, the preparations for the party were going well. Brian smiled to himself, thinking about how surprised to act when he walked into the Rec Room that evening.

Justin rushed through his food and then he and Em and Michelle and Wesley darted off to ‘do the laundry,’ leaving Brian lingering over his lunch. He wasn’t really too hungry. He had a lot on his mind. The party was tonight. And then Thursday was Visiting Day. Ron would presumably be there again, waiting. 

But Brian hadn’t decided whether or not he’d see Ron this month. Maybe he should go and talk to him and make certain that Ron gave up on that Family Visit that he seemed obsessed with recently. It was a waste of time and energy. Not only would the prison administration never approve of such a thing, but Brian wasn’t about to participate in it. Maybe 6 months ago, Brian might have considered it, but not anymore. He was hooked up with Justin and he took that very seriously. Ron had never been so focused on their so-called ‘relationship’ when they were together, so what was his problem now?

That letter Ron wrote had pissed Brian off. He’d never heard such bullshit in his entire life! Ron knew all the buttons to push in order to play on Brian’s feelings of guilt and helplessness.

However, Brian wasn’t feeling all that guilty or helpless lately. No, he was feeling more empowered than he ever had. He had a status in the Quad that was based on his own performance in the Legal Aid office and he had a measure of acceptance among the jockers on his tier. And he had some new friends, too. His own group of ‘road dogs,’ to steal a biker term. Jockers like Al and Juice and Junior. Stand-up guys who would watch your back in the Yard. Guys who gave him some respect. And that was important in prison culture. 

Brian noticed the low-riders looking over at him from their corner. And Cisco was sitting in the middle of them. They were fawning all over the creep like he was some returning hero. They all probably knew him on the outside – or at least knew him by reputation. Cisco had been considered a ‘bad dude’ in his day, but that day was long past. Brian also noticed that Cisco was walking with a limp. Maybe he’d been downed in a fight somewhere or wiped out on his bike and fucked up his leg. Either way, he was old and he was damaged. But Brian was still young and in the prime of life. Brian wasn’t afraid of Cisco anymore. Or if he was, he couldn’t let anyone know it. To show fear or weakness was to be destroyed.

Brian stood up and threw his tray on the rack. When he turned around Cisco was standing there. Brian went cold for a moment, but he didn’t blink. He didn’t even acknowledge that he knew who Cisco was. Cisco was nobody. Cisco was nothing.

“I seen you yesterday, Baby, out on the Yard.”

Brian stiffened his whole body. “So what?” Then he tried to move forward, but the biker was blocking his way.

“Who was the big guy you was with? The muscle-head?” asked Cisco. “Your new daddy?”

“No,” said Brian, coolly. “My friend.”

Cisco snorted. “You got jockers for buddies now? Ain’t that nice! Where’s Mister R. these days? Don’t he get jealous? He was always the jealous type.”

“He’s outside. Almost a year now.” 

Brian moved a step forward, but Cisco didn’t budge.

“I can’t believe you’re at loose ends,” said Cisco in a low voice. “That just ain’t right. You must be lonely, Baby.”

“Move out of my way,” said Brian. “Now.”

Cisco leaned in and stared Brian straight in the eye. “Hear me out, Baby. I seen you last night at dinner with the kid. And then coming in here today with him, too. You like playing the jock, huh, Baby? Hoss tells me that kid belongs to US! Hoss and his boys turned that kid out – and then you took him! That don’t sit right with me. It don’t sit right at all.”

“Then I would head back to the South Wing and the hole that you crawled out of over there, Cisco,” said Brian. “Because I don’t give a shit what does and doesn’t sit right with you. And no one else does, either. So stay out of my business and out of my way. And if I hear that you’ve even been looking in Justin’s direction....” Brian let the threat hang. “I’ve got to go. Now.”

Brian tried to move past Cisco, but the biker grabbed his arm. Cisco might have been older and fatter, but he was still strong, with a grip like a vice. 

“You got two things that belong to us, Baby. One is that blond kid. And you know what the other thing is. That shyster lawyer may have suckered me out of my property once, but he ain’t here now to do it again.”

“Fuck off, Cisco,” Brian whispered.

“You like hanging out with that kid? Don’t worry, Baby. In the tip you two’ll be together all the time! You can hold hands while I take turns fucking your asses! That will be real sweet, won’t it?” Cisco grinned, showing a ragged row of teeth. “I said, won’t it, Baby?”

“And I said, get the fuck out of my way!” Brian pulled his arm out of Cisco’s grasp. He looked up and saw Juice standing there, glowering. Cisco turned around and also saw the muscular jocker. Cisco stepped back, away from Brian.

“Brian, come on! I’ve been looking for you,” said Juice. He glared back at Cisco. 

“I’m coming, Ben,” said Brian. And the two of them walked out of the Chow Hall and back up towards the tier.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Ben have a serious talk.

Chapter 19

 

“You want to take a walk?” asked Juice. “Just get some air?”

“Sure, Juice. Why not?” said Brian, indifferently.

It was beginning to cloud over and there was a rainy smell in the April air, but there were still a lot of jocks shooting hoops and throwing softballs around the diamond. Brian and Ben headed for the gravel track and began walking it, circling the open grass and the game areas.

“So,” Juice said. “You want to talk about what was going on in there, Brian? How about you clue me in?”

“It’s nothing,” Brian replied, kicking at the gravel. “Ancient history.”

“What was going on between you and that biker didn’t look too ancient to me,” Juice retorted. “It looked right up to date! So, who is that guy anyway?” 

Brian gave a short laugh. “No one! Just my worst fucking nightmare – that’s all!”

Juice scratched his beefy forearm. “I never thought you had that much to do with the low-riders, Bri.”

“I don’t. Or as little to do with them as I can,” said Brian. “But that wasn’t always the case.” Brian looked at Juice seriously. “Do you know how long I’ve been here? Any idea?”

Juice shrugged. “I don’t know. A long time, according to Michelle. Maybe 6 or 7 years?”

“It’s 9 actually. Except for a couple of the old lifers in the Hospital Wing, my old cellie, Ron, was the last one left who remembered when I came in here. But now there’s another one. Because he’s back in.”

Juice nodded. “That low-rider. So he was here when you were a new fish, huh?”

Brian took a deep breath. “Yeah, he was here. John Hunt, AKA Cisco. He was the leader of the biker gang back then. A vicious, heartless, evil motherfucker. He may be a little older now, but I’m sure he hasn’t changed too much.”

Juice frowned. “But I don’t get what that has to do with you, Bri.”

“Nothing, really. Or everything, depending on your point of view.” The two men kept walking, but Brian slowed his pace, as if something was dragging him down. “Because when I first came into the joint, I was Cisco’s punk.”

That made Juice stop dead in his tracks. “Jesus! But I thought that lawyer? The guy you mentioned who got out? Your cellie? Michelle said that he was....” 

Juice paused. He wasn’t certain what to call Ron Rosenblum. Had he been Bri’s jocker? His lover? His partner? It was obvious that their relationship had been very different from the usual arrangement between a jock and his punk. Even the other jockers recognized that it was different. Less about sex and convenience and more about business and cooperation. Bri had been Ron’s apprentice in the Legal Aid office and when Ron got out, Brian took over the operation. At least that’s how many of the other men saw it. Which was one reason why most of the jockers in the East Wing accepted Brian as one of their own. Bri was far from the typical punk and always had been – as far that they could remember.

But the news that Brian had been a biker punk was a shock to Ben. Maybe it was common knowledge on the tier, but nobody talked about it. Michelle certainly had never mentioned it to him. It was evidently something very painful to Brian. And the confrontation in the Chow Hall with this low-rider – Cisco – had definitely thrown Bri for a loop.

“I hooked up with Ron after that,” Brian continued. “It’s a long, nasty story, but the bikers wanted to get rid of me – and Ron took me up. Lucky for me, I admit, or else I doubt that I’d still be here. But it’s hard to forget an experience like that, even though it feels like it happened to another person. Maybe it DID happen to another person.” Yes, thought Brian, another person altogether. Baby.

“Shit!” Juice exclaimed. “I can’t even imagine having to deal with those bastards, let alone living with them!”

“I wouldn’t call it living,” said Brian, quietly. “It was barely existing. And now....” 

“Now what?” asked Juice. “What the fuck does that guy want, Bri? What was he telling you?”

“He wants Justin,” Brian answered flatly. “They feel that the kid belongs to them. They turned him out when he first got here, just like they turned me out, and so they think that makes him their property.”

“Turned him out?” Michelle had told Ben that Bri’s kid had been gang raped shortly after coming into the Quad, but she said no one knew for certain who had done it. But the kid knew. And it was apparent that Brian knew, too. “The bikers were the ones who attacked Justin?”

“Yes,” said Brian. “But you can’t repeat that to anyone, Juice. Justin’s life would be in danger if the low-riders know that Justin remembers what happened to him and who did it.”

“I get it, Bri,” Juice nodded. “You can count on me! I won’t say a fucking word! I promise.”

“Thanks, Ben,” said Brian. “Now you see why this is so personal to me. First, those fuckers take me, humiliate me, drive me to try to kill myself, and make my life a living hell. Then they hurt Justin. Take away his innocence. Damage him, physically and emotionally. And now they’re threatening to reclaim him.” Brian closed him eyes. “And they’ve threatened to reclaim ME, too. That’s what Cisco told me. That once you belong to the low-riders, it’s forever. So Cisco doesn’t only want Justin – he wants BOTH of us.”

“But that’s fucked, Bri! Those SOB’s don’t have that kind of power!” Juice cried. “They can’t just TAKE guys!”

“Oh, no?” Brian countered. “They’ve done it in the past. And ask the punks who are in their tip right now if they’re there because they want to be. Maybe the low-riders can’t just drag a kid off in front of the whole Quad, but they can still cause a shitload of trouble. I’ll need to watch my back every second of the day, Juice. And I’ll need to keep a close eye on the kid.” Brian’s mouth was set in a firm line. “Because if anything happens to Justin, I’ll kill Cisco. Really, I’ll do it without any hesitation. I don’t give a fuck about myself, but I won’t let them get that kid!” 

“Don’t worry, Bri!” said Juice, puffing out his massive chest. “I’ve got your back! And so do the other guys in the East Wing. Everybody likes Justin and nobody wants to see the goddamn low-riders hurt him!”

“Thanks, Ben,” said Brian. “Let’s hope that this doesn’t get ugly.”

“Well, if it does,” said Juice with determination. “Then we got to be ready to get ugly right back at them! Fight fire with fucking fire!”

“Right,” said Brian, sadly. “As if this fucking world wasn’t ugly enough already. But sometimes it’s what you have to do in order to be a man.” 

And that’s when the rain, which had been holding off all morning, began to fall on Stanton Correctional Facility for Men.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is confronted.

Chapter 20

 

All through dinner Justin was biting his nails. He could hardly sit still in his seat, he was so excited.

All the queens were giggling and winking at him. The punks were all giving him the high sign and looking smug. Even the guys in the food line gave Justin the thumbs up, letting him know that everything was a go for the party, which was due to start at 8:00 in the third tier Rec Room.

But Justin couldn’t help but notice that Brian was quiet over dinner. Very quiet. They were sitting with Michelle and her new jocker, Ben. As usual, Michelle was running off at the mouth, so much so that Justin was afraid she’d spill something about the party. Michelle was like that – she said things without thinking. Stuff just came blurting out of her mouth, without any way to stop her. That really bugged the hell out of Justin, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

Emmy, on the other hand, was very careful about what she said. She understood the importance of keeping your mouth shut when it was necessary. Em knew a lot of secrets about a lot of people in the Quad, but she knew better than to yap about them. One lesson that Justin had learned in Stanton – some things HAD to be kept secret. Knowing certain things could make life very unpleasant, or even get a guy killed.

Emmy, who was at another table with her contingent of queens, stood up and signaled that it was time to go. The queens needed to get the decorations put up in the Rec Room and then get dressed before the party started. Em nodded to Michelle, who then got all flustered and dropped her fork. Michelle was always dropping her silverware.

“I gotta go,” said Michelle, standing up. 

Justin frowned at her, warningly.

“I gotta... um, do some stuff!” Michelle finished. Then she stumbled after Emmy and Barbie and the others. 

Ben started laughing as he watched her go. “Michy is always up to something,” he commented to Brian.

Justin looked at Ben closely. He almost acted like he KNEW about the party! Or that he at least knew something was going on. Ben grinned back at Justin. He’d been spending quite a bit of time with Brian recently, shooting hoops with him, and working out with him up on the iron pile. That was good. Brian needed strong jocker friends. Having a big, macho guy like the Juice Pig as a buddy was good for Brian’s status in the Quad. And Brian really seemed to like Ben. They often talked together about things going on in the prison and also about political events. 

Unlike some of the inmates, Ben was fairly well-read, if self-educated. He’d been drafted in the mid-1960’s and sent to Vietnam, where he’d been a sergeant in the Infantry. When he got out he’d worked in a number of places as a bouncer, which was a natural for a big, muscular guy. There was also some talk that Ben had been a low-level enforcer for some mob guys in Philadelphia, breaking the arms and legs of guys who ‘forgot’ to pay their debts. But Ben had also been into various drugs, including steroids to build himself up, which had turned out to be his downfall.

“Brian? Is everything okay?” Justin asked. 

“Hm? What?” Brian answered. “No, everything is fine, kid. What would be wrong?” But Brian glanced around. It was almost as if he was nervous about something. Justin noticed that Ben also glanced around the Chow Hall, too. Almost as if he was on alert.

“I need to go and do a few things for... for class,” said Justin. “What if you meet me in the Rec Room at 8:00 and we can watch Emmy and Barbie play ping pong, okay? That should be funny!”

Brian shook his head. “I need to work in the Law Library all evening. I have a bunch of new cases and files to get in order to hand over to Ron on Thursday. I’ll be back in time for lockdown. I’ll see you then.” Brian stood up. And Ben stood up at the same time.

“Brian, no! PLEASE come to the Rec Room with me! You can do the files tomorrow!” It had never occurred to Justin that he wouldn’t be able to get Brian over to the party! Now what was he going to do?

“I’m heading to the Library, too, Bri. I’ll walk along with you,” said Ben.

“Sure,” said Brian. And he took his tray over and tossed it on the rack.

Ben leaned over to Justin. “I’ll make certain that he gets to the party in time, kid. Don't worry about it.”

Justin stared at Ben. “I didn’t think you knew about the party, Juice!”

Ben laughed. “I live with Michelle, remember? You know she can’t keep a secret! Most of the jocks know about the party, Justin. Don’t worry, we’ll all be there – with bells on! It’ll be a great party. You did a good job, kid.”

“Thanks, Ben! Thanks a lot!” Justin broke into a huge grin. Everything was going to be great! The party was going to be a blast!

Ben followed Brian out of the Chow Hall. And Justin waved at Wesley and Jackie, who were going to help him carry the wrapped presents from Emmy’s cell to the Rec Room.

“Pretty thing,” said a low voice.

Justin turned around. A biker, an older guy who Justin didn’t recognize, was standing right behind him. 

“Excuse me?” said Justin, moving away.

“I bet your skin is nice and soft,” said the low-rider. “I bet your ass is like a sweet, juicy peach.” 

“Get away from me,” said Justin, pulling himself up straight. Never let them see that you’re afraid. Never let them see you cry! “I’ll tell my old man that you were hassling me!”

The biker smirked. “Your old man, huh? He’s got a sweet ass, too. Real sweet. And I oughta know. I’ve fucked it enough times. Yeah, and I’ll have it again, too. Sometimes I have wet dreams about Baby. And I think I’ll add YOU to that wet dream, Blondie. You’ll get to like my dick. You’ll get to like it just fine! Both of you will!”

Wesley and Jackie came up to Justin and stood next to him. Justin backed up just slightly, but he kept glaring at the biker. “I said to get away from me! And stay away from Brian, too! Stay away from both of us! Or you’ll be sorry! I fucking mean it!”

“You got pretty little balls, Blondie. Pretty little balls,” said the low-rider, his breath hot and harsh. “But you shut your sweet mouth if you want to keep those balls, darlin’. Keep it shut from now on – unless I’m putting my dick into it!” And the biker turned and stomped away. 

Justin was shaking. Shaking and sweating. 

Wes put his hand on Justin’s shoulder and rubbed it. “Who is that asshole?”

“I... I don’t know. Some old guy. I never saw him before.” Justin turned around and hustled Wesley and Jackie out of the Chow Hall. “Come on. We have to get ready for the party!”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!

Chapter 21

 

At ten minutes to 8:00 Juice stuck his head in the door of the Law Library. “Hey, Bri. It’s time to go over to the party.”

Brian sighed and closed the folder he was working on. “I really have to do this, don’t I?”

Juice grinned. “If you don’t, you’re going to disappoint a hell of a lot of people who are over there, waiting for a party to start.” Juice put his hands on his hips. “Besides, the kid has done a lot of work to get this thing going, so the least you can do is play along.”

Brian stood up and stretched. “I guess you’re right.” He started putting the files away.

Murray, the Librarian, stopped by the door. “I’m closing up now, guys.”

“Isn’t it a little early, Murray?” asked Brian.

Murray frowned. “I don’t want to miss the party! And you better get your ass over there soon or you’re going to ruin it!”

Juice started to laugh. “I told you, Bri – this thing is bigger than just you.”

“Jesus, what did Justin do? Invite the whole Quad?” said Brian. “If I see Horvath there, that’s the last straw!” Brian slammed the drawer of the file cabinet shut. “Damned parties,” he mumbled. “I don’t see that just because a guy happened to get born 29 years ago, it’s any reason for a party!”

Juice sniffed. “That’s plenty reason for most people. And I thought it was 30 years ago?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “29 or 30? What difference does it make?”

Brian locked up the office and he and Juice walked back towards the East Wing.

“You ever hear from your parents, Bri?” asked Juice. Michelle had mentioned that they never visited Brian. His only visitor was his ex-cellie, jock, and Legal Aid partner, Ron.

“Nope,” Brian answered shortly. “I think they’ve forgotten my existence. So, we’re equal, because I’ve forgotten theirs.”

“Sorry about that, Bri. Sounds rough.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Ben,” said Brian. “My mother used to send me religious pamphlets and holy pictures and crap like that. Once she even wrote to the chaplain and the priest came to the cell, looking to get me to go to Mass. That was pretty funny because Ron fended him off and gave him his long rant about religion being the opiate of the masses. I think Ron had been reading Marx at the time. Then he accused the poor priest of coming around because he wanted to get into my pants! I wasn’t sure if Ron was kidding about that or if he really thought the priest was giving me the eye, but the guy took off like a shot! And after that my Mom stopped sending me her religious stuff. God only knows what Father John wrote her about me! I can just imagine!”

“What about your dad?” Juice asked.

“Oh, Pop gave up on me a long time before that. Pretty much from the moment I was arrested. But he was never too fond of me, anyway, so it wasn’t a big hardship for him. He wasn’t all that crazy about either me or my sister. That’s what comes of a good old fashioned shotgun wedding. It makes for such happy families.” Brian rubbed his eyes. He could feel a headache beginning behind his eyes. “What about you, Juice?”

“My father’s dead, my mother’s remarried,” said Juice. “They live in Florida. My mom writes to me regularly. But I’m the family disappointment, I’m afraid.”

“No shit!” Brian laughed. He slapped Ben’s hand. “Welcome to the club!” 

Brian saw Justin standing at the top of the stairwell on the third tier, waiting for him. The kid’s face was a mask of worry, but he broke into a broad grin when he saw Brian and Juice climbing up the stairs.

“Hey, Brian! You’re just in time....” Justin paused. “To watch the ping pong match!”

“The ping pong match?” said Brian. “Of course! We hurried up here especially so we wouldn’t miss it!”

Juice stifled a laugh and walked on to the Rec Room, leaving Brian and Justin to follow.

“Brian? Is everything okay?” Justin asked. “You can tell me.”

“Sure, kid. Everything is just dandy.” Brian put his arm around Justin’s shoulders. The kid seemed so vulnerable, and yet Brian knew that Justin had a backbone made of pure Pittsburgh steel.

“It’s just that you seemed a little down today.”

“It’s because I’m such an old man!” Brian replied. “Old and cranky! I think I better sit around and play cards with Andy and Beemer and leave all the excitement to you crazy kids!”

“Will you quit it with that old man shit?” Justin huffed. “You’re younger than Juice! And younger than Al and Big John and all those guys!”

Brian shook his head. “I know. That’s my curse. Too young to be a jock and too old to be a punk!”

“I don’t see why everything has to have a label on it, Brian. Why can’t you just be YOU? Why can’t we just be US?” Justin asked.

“Because that’s not the way things work, kid,” Brian answered quietly. “Everybody has their role and it’s hard if you don’t fit into your assigned part. But that’s always been my problem. I’ve never really fit in anywhere.”

“Me neither,” said Justin. “I think that’s why we fit together so well. You let me be me and I let you be you.”

“See? Those Philosophy books are paying off!” Brian leaned over and whispered into Justin’s ear. “But forget Philosophy. Let’s go back to the room and I’ll fuck your brains out! Then I’ll chase you around the cell and fuck you again when I catch you. How about it?”

“Brian!” Justin wailed. “Be serious!”

“I’m very serious. Completely serious!” Brian breathed into the boy’s pink ear. “Don’t you want me to fuck your brains out? Let’s go!”

But Justin stopped in front of the Rec Room. “Brian! We can’t!”

“Why not?” Brian asked innocently. Or he tried to look as innocent as possible.

Justin pushed open the door of the Rec Room. “This is why!”

And Brian heard everyone yell, “Surprise!”

“Oh, shit!” he replied.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 

 

Brian had to admit that he was amazed at what Justin had accomplished with the birthday party.

He’d seen a lot of things in his 9 years in the joint, but never anything as bizarre as Al and Wesley dancing together to Emmy’s Frank Sinatra tapes. Or Officer Foster splitting a piece of birthday cake with the little red-haired drag queen Lou Lou. Or Juice Pig getting creamed at ping pong by Michelle. Or the tall and flashy black queen Loretta arm-wrestling with mousey Murray the Librarian. 

The cake alone was a major accomplishment. Or, rather, both cakes. Angelo and Tony, the two guys Justin had strong-armed, bribed, and sweet-talked into making the birthday cake, had a last minute disagreement about whether it should be chocolate or buttercream. Consequently, there were two competing cakes, each profusely decorated with pink sugar roses and the words ‘Happy Birthday Brian!’ across the top. But two cakes turned out to be a necessity, since the party-goers soon overflowed the Rec Room and spilled down the length of the third tier.

Emmy and her friends had also done a bang-up job on the decorations. The Rec Room looked more like a New Orleans bordello than a prison, with feathers, tinsel, and a rainbow of silk scarves hanging everywhere, lending color to the otherwise drab space. Emmy kept the music going on her cassette player, changing the mood frequently, although she drew the line at playing Stormy’s copy of the Sex Pistol’s ‘Never Mind the Bollocks’ and put on Marvin Gaye instead. Michelle and Barbie passed out soft drinks and plates of cookies from the canteen, and they also took charge of the birthday cards and gifts.

Brian couldn’t believe that people had actually brought him presents. And not just Justin. Brian had assumed that the kid would give him something. Maybe a shirt or a book or something like that. But Justin had a stack of gifts for him, all wrapped in Justin’s special homemade paper. 

But there were presents from other people, too. From Emmy and Barbie, and also from Michelle and Juice. Al and Wesley. Andy and Beemer. The guys on the b-ball team. A card sent in from Dave, who was out on parole. And other odds and ends from Brian’s PLD clients. Brian, whose parents had never made any kind of fuss over his birthdays even when he was a child, was overwhelmed to say the least.

“Attention everyone!” Emmy called out. “I think it’s time for the birthday boy to open his gifts!”

“Yes!” Justin agreed, pulling on Brian’s arm. “Come on, Brian!”

But Brian was still hesitant. And embarrassed. It seemed strange to be the center of so much attention. Unnerving. For so many years Brian had done all he could to be unnoticed. To fly under the radar. To remain always in the background. His trial and the events surrounding it had given him as much fame as he ever hoped to survive. The cameras and people staring at him had been a nightmare he never wished to repeat. Then as a punk in prison it was easier to be anonymous. Easier to be nothing but a reflection of his old man. And since Ron adored the spotlight, it was simple just to stand behind him and feel the protection of being nothing.

But that was impossible now. Impossible with Justin, who was a magnet for attention wherever he was. And that meant that Brian, as his partner, had to step up into the spotlight. 

Brian had been vaguely aware that he was well-known in the Quad, but he’d never thought about the implications of that. But now, with the party, Brian was seeing exactly what he was – a man with status in Stanton Correctional. A man who, like Ron, controlled the Fates of a lot of men in the prison. A man who had done what cons called a ‘righteous crime.’ There was no higher offense than murder and the political element of the bombing and the show trial added to the outlaw nature of Brian’s prison image. And the length of his sentence, the years he had survived there – Brian was like a professor with tenure in the culture of the inmate. Brian had paid his dues. And now he had a punk who would do anything for him. That was strength. That was power.

Brian sat on the old sofa and opened his presents. The queens and punks seemed so excited by the trappings of the party, and Justin the most of all. His eyes were shining and he could hardly contain his glee as Brian unwrapped each gift. 

Most of the presents were small, things that could be bought at the canteen for a few credits or made in one of the craft shops in the Industry Building. Some of the queens gave Brian candy or other treats from the canteen. Stormy had made Brian a leather belt with a cowboy buckle, and Wes a wooden plaque on which he’d burned the words ‘Brian and Justin’s Place’ to hang on the front of their cell. Emmy and Barbie and Lou Lou had needlepointed a large throw pillow with a design of a running golden horse on it. Justin, of course, had provided the drawing that they used for the pattern. Even a group of the C.O.’s had signed a big birthday card in the form of a Monopoly card that read ‘Get Out of Jail Free!’

Brian held up the card. “Will this work at the front gate?”

All the guys laughed.

“You wish, Kinney!” Sergeant Tully returned. Then he added, “Maybe someday.”

“Yeah,” said Brian. “Maybe someday.”

Finally, Brian opened up Justin’s gifts. He took care not to tear the wrapping paper, which was a work of art in itself, collages of magazine pictures and Justin’s own drawings pasted onto large sheets of drawing paper.

Everyone laughed at the underwear, although the queens couldn’t wait to see Bri Baby in the black wifebeater. And the gym shorts were perfect for basketball games and Brian’s morning run.

“I LOVE this sweater!” cooed Emmy, running his finger across the red pullover. “This color will be PERFECT on you!”

Brian shrugged. “If you say so, Em. All these clothes – I... I don’t know when I’ll wear them all!”

“Don’t worry!” said Justin. “I’ll dress you, Brian. Most people don’t wear the same pair of pants and the same shirt every single day!”

“You’re lucky they don’t make you wear those striped uniforms, like in the old days!” Juice laughed.

“Ewww! Those horizontal stripes make my butt look big!” Emmy exclaimed. “No thank you!”

As nice as the clothes were, Brian was most interested in the books that Justin had requested. He hadn’t read ‘Catch-22’ or ‘Tender Is the Night’ in many years and he’d never read ‘The Persian Boy’ or Kerouac’s ‘The Subterraneans.’

“Thanks, kid,” said Brian. “Thanks for everything.” And he leaned over and gave Justin a kiss, right in front of the whole party. Justin was so happy he thought he’d burst.

“It was nothing, Brian,” said Justin, blushing deeply. “It was only what you deserve.”

Emmy stood up and clapped her hands. “There’s more cake, people, and the ice cream is melting, so eat up!”

“I’d like a piece of that cake, bitch,” said a voice.

Everyone looked around to see Cisco, Hoss, and a couple of the low-riders standing in the doorway.

“Now that we’re here this party is just gettin’ started!” Cisco added. And the bikers pushed their way into the Rec Room.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation at the party.

Chapter 23

 

Justin felt Brian tense when he saw the low-riders at the door. And Juice, who was in the corner with Michelle, immediately walked over to stand by Brian and Justin on the sofa. Justin looked around for the C.O.’s, but they had gone back to the guard station after the presents were opened.

Cisco strutted over to the food table and began helping himself.

Justin jumped off the sofa and was in the biker’s face before Brian could stop him. “Excuse me? But I think you’re in the wrong place. So I suggest that you leave my party! Now!”

Both Brian and Juice were behind the kid in a moment. Brian pulled at Justin’s shoulder. “Justin! Come with me. I fucking mean it!”

“I think my invite musta got lost in the mail, pretty thing,” Cisco snorted. “You throw a nice little do here. But it’s kinda boring, fishy fish. You come back and party with us in the South Wing. We’ll show you how to have a good time.” Cisco trained his red eyes on Brian. “Isn’t that right, Baby?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Brian said quietly, but firmly. There was only a slight tremble in his voice.

“Baby knows how to have a good time.” Cisco picked up a slice of cake with his hands and pushed it into his mouth. “That’s real tasty. But I can think of something even tastier. You understand my meaning, Baby? TWO things even tastier!” The biker leered at Justin.

Juice, Al, and Big John moved in closer behind Brian, backing him up, while a couple of the other jockers moved in around Hoss and his bikers by the door, clearly letting them know that they were outmanned.

Brian reached out and shoved Cisco away from the table. “If I catch you on this tier again or in this wing again, you’ll be sorry they ever sent your ugly ass back to Stanton.”

Cisco laughed. “Oh, yeah? You gonna do that, Baby? You’re a big shot now, huh? A big fucking shot! That’s the funniest thing I heard of since I came back here!”

Brian grabbed Cisco by the front of his dirty prison shirt, catching him off-guard. “I wonder if you remember what I’m in here for, motherfucker? Murder – that ring a bell?”

Cisco hesitated, but then he sniffed. “What you gonna do, Baby? Blow me up?” 

Brian pushed the biker away and wiped his hands on his pants. “Maybe. Maybe I WILL blow you up. But I’m in here for 20 to life. Which means that I have nothing to lose by wasting you, Cisco. Nothing to lose at all.”

Cisco frowned. He obviously hadn’t expected Baby to give him any trouble. But the low-riders were in a bad way in the Quad these days. They were down to only two punks in the tip. Prostitution in Stanton was being run by the Mexican gang now, and most of the drugs coming up were bypassing the bikers. And that dumbass Hoss was a piss poor leader if he couldn’t even manage to keep the blond punk after they had turned him out! They’d let another punk take him right out from under their noses! And not just any punk, either, but Baby! That stuck in Cisco’s craw.

“Don’t get in my face,” said Cisco. “You might fool these guys, but don’t think you can fool me, Baby. You’re nothin’ but a cocksucker and you always will be. Having your own little cocksucker don’t change that.” 

“Nothing to lose,” Brian repeated. His green eyes were burning into Cisco’s face. 

“Brian!” Justin cried. Now he was really afraid. He tried to move between Brian and the biker, but Ben held him back.

The two men stood, face to face, staring each other down. One was tall and straight and handsome, while the other was older, squat and ugly and broken-down. But they were both dangerous and they hated each other with an intensity that every man in the room could feel, even if they didn’t understand the reason for it.

But then Officer Foster and Sergeant Tully came back into the Rec Room. Wesley had slipped out silently and run down the tier to the alert the guards that there was trouble at the party.

“You men are out of your wing!” Foster barked at the low-riders. “It’s almost time for head count, so get your asses back where you belong!”

Cisco blinked first and turned away from Brian. “That fish belongs to us, Baby,” he warned. “And we’re gonna have him. You can count on that. Ain’t nobody gonna cheat us out of what’s ours. Not even you!”

“Fuck off, Cisco!” Brian spat.

“That’s enough, Kinney!” said Sergeant Tully. “The party’s over! Everyone clear out!”

Hoss and the other low-riders backed out of the room and stomped down the tier, with Cisco limping after them.

“We’ll clean up in here, Officer honey,” said Emmy, moving to pick up the paper plates and discarded soda cans. Barbie and Michelle hustled to do the same.

“Okay, but everybody else get back to your cells!” The C.O.’s directed all the men out of the Rec Room. Justin began scooping up Brian’s presents and Wesley helped him carry them down the tier and back to the cell.

Justin’s heart was pounding. He was proud of the way Brian had stood up to the low-rider, but he was also terrified. Because Justin knew that now that they’d been challenged the bikers would never give up. Justin would have to be extremely careful, even more so than he had been before. Because if the bikers ever tried to take him, Justin knew that Brian’s life would be on the line to protect him. That’s what it meant to be a jocker, even in a medium security joint. This wasn’t a game. It was life and death.

In the cell Justin and Wes piled the presents in the corner. Then, as Brian undressed in silence, Justin shook out the new sweater and folded it carefully away on the shelf. Justin hadn’t noticed before that the bright red color was exactly that of fresh blood. Justin shivered and wished that he’d asked his mother for a different color, but it was too late now.

Yes, too late for a lot of things.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy Carver's Creative Writing class.

Chapter 24

 

Amy Carver had never heard the boys in her Creative Writing class so noisy. She could hear them chattering and laughing as she walked up the hallway and they didn’t fall silent, as they usually did, as she entered the classroom.

“Well!” said Amy, setting her briefcase down on the desk. “What brought all THIS on?”

“Miss Carver, there was a PARTY on the third tier in the East Wing last night!” said Jackie. Amy noticed that Jackie was wearing more bracelets than usual – and more make-up. “I helped decorate the Rec Room! And there was a cake and ice cream and presents!”

“Yeah, and a big fight!” added Stormy.

“It wasn’t a fight!” Wesley countered.

“It was ALMOST a fight!” said Stormy, firmly. “I was hoping that the jockers would mix it up!”

“There’s gonna be one!” said Lee. “Chuck says so! He thinks the bikers are gonna lay for Bri and cut him up good!”

Stormy snorted. “The low-riders are pussies! Did you see how that fat guy backed off when Bri told him to fuck off?” Stormy stopped and looked up at Amy. “Sorry, Miss Carver.” Amy didn’t allow the boys to use bad language in the classroom. “I’m just repeating what Bri said.”

“What was this all about?” asked Amy. “Are you saying that you had a party in the prison?”

“Justin gave it,” said Wesley. “For his... his cellmate’s birthday. And we were all invited. I helped Justin get stuff ready. I carried the presents over to the Rec Room.”

“And I helped bring up the pop from the canteen,” said Stormy. 

“Me, too!” Zack chimed in.

“Yeah, we all did stuff for it, Miss Carver.” Stormy smiled. “It was great to go to a party.” 

“And you boys say that Justin arranged all this? Himself?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jackie replied primly. “My old man said he’d never pull it off, but I knew he would! Justin’s so smart he can do anything!”

“Aww, you got a crush on him!” said Lee, curling his lip in disdain.

Amy had already taken note that Justin wasn’t in class. He had never missed a class before. “Where IS Justin? Is he still cleaning up after his big party?”

The boys looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think he’ll be here tonight,” offered Wesley.

“He’s scared to come out of his cell,” Lee sneered. “So’s Bri Baby! They’re both probably up on the third tier shaking in their shoes!”

“They are not!” snapped Stormy. “Bri’s not scared of some biker scum! So, you take that back, you little weasel!” 

Stormy and Lee had a rivalry going back to the time they both came in together as new fish the year before. Stormy, who had spent time in the Juvenile Reformatory and knew the score about prison, had immediately hooked up with Junior, an East Wing jocker with a good reputation. Junior was on the third tier basketball team and brought in a decent draw from his Industry job because he was a skilled machinist. The smaller, weaker Lee, on the other hand, had been claimed by Big Chuck, a South Wing jocker with a bad gambling habit. Consequently, Lee’s jocker peddled his punk’s ass all over the Quad to make up for his losses. Chuck, a known bully, also roughed Lee up pretty regularly, so the kid was resentful of punks, like Stormy and Wesley and Justin, who had what Lee considered an easy ride from their jocks.

“Boys, is Justin in some kind of danger?” said Amy with real concern. “Or his cellmate, Brian?” 

That shut the boys up tight as a drum. They’d already said too much as it was, especially to some female from outside the joint.

“Boys?” Amy asked again. But they wouldn’t – or couldn’t – continue. Stormy and Zack stared straight ahead, while Wesley and Jackie looked away, and Lee slumped down in his seat. The wall went up and there was no way Amy was going to penetrate it.

Amy had pages from Brian’s manuscript in her briefcase to return to Justin, and she had hoped that he would give her a new section that night. She was typing out the handwritten pages herself and then making Xerox copies of the originals before she returned them. Amy was also hoping that a friend of hers at Carnegie Mellon in Pittsburgh would read the excerpts and agree with her that the story was as important as she believed it was. Amy had never considered that Brian Kinney would be in any kind of danger in prison. That made her anxious to read the later sections that dealt with his life in the Stanton Quad. She wished that Justin were here to give her the full story about the party and its aftermath.

“All right, then. Let’s move on to your stories,” said Amy.

The discussion of the stories that followed was a lively one, much more animated than Amy had expected without Justin to drive it, as he usually did with most of the classes. But without Justin in the room, Amy could see how the dynamics of the class had changed markedly. Stormy and Lee were openly at odds, one always taking the opposite position from the other. Zack, ever the follower, always took his cues from Stormy and agreed with everything he said. Wesley was quieter than usual without Justin there, urging him to speak. And Jackie seemed even more girlish, giggling and jangling his bracelets, playing up to the other boys, flattering them and batting his eyes at them. 

Amy could clearly see how Justin’s presence tempered the class, keeping the boys in line and also keeping the conversation on track. Now the discussion was constantly veering off in some tangent away from the story in question, typically grinding to a halt over some disagreement between Stormy and Lee. Then Amy had to stop, pull back, and get the class going in a more profitable direction.

Towards the end of the session Amy set the boys to work on what was obviously primary in their minds – a description of the infamous party. While the boys wrote, Amy Carver sat back and wondered if it would be bad form to write a letter to Justin. After all, he had missed class. She needed to give him his next assignment, although telling Wesley to deliver it was probably all that was necessary. But Amy wanted to know that her star pupil was okay. The talk of a fight and some kind of feud between Brian Kinney and another man had Amy deeply worried.

“Excuse me?” 

Amy looked to see a tall man standing at the door of her classroom. He had shaggy brown hair and a handsome face, but his eyes looked tired and shadowy.

“Yes? What can I do for you?” Amy said, warily. At this time of the evening there were not supposed to be any other inmates in this part of the building except her students.

The boys looked up at the newcomer. 

“Hey, Bri!” called out Stormy. “What’s happening?”

Amy looked sharply at the man and then back at Stormy. “Continue with your work, please.” She walked out into the hallway and closed the classroom door. 

“I have Justin’s story here. He didn’t want to miss class, but he’s not feeling well tonight.” Brian held out a manila folder, like the kind Justin always used to turn in his work.

“Are you Brian? Justin’s... cellmate?” Amy hesitated. She had about a million questions she wanted to ask Brian Kinney, but she knew that she could not. That would give away the fact that Justin was sharing this man’s manuscript with her. And she had no idea what his reaction would be to that revelation. “He’s mentioned you in class.”

“Yes,” said Brian. He kept glancing around the empty halls. “Although I don’t know why Justin would talk about me.”

“Oh,” said Amy, carefully. “That you read his stories and comment on them. And that you allow him to take the class.”

Brian smiled slightly. “I don’t ‘allow’ Justin to do anything. He has a mind of his own, as I’m sure you know.”

“Yes, that he does,” Amy replied. She kept staring at this man. Justin’s lover. He certainly wasn’t anyone’s idea of a homosexual, thought Amy. Or, rather, anyone’s stereotypical notion of a gay man. Amy wasn’t sure how she had pictured this man, who Justin had described so often and whose words she had read so avidly, but it wasn’t this tall and very masculine presence. “Have a mind of his own, I mean.”

“I suppose the kids mentioned the party last night,” said Brian, his face serious.

“Yes, they did. It made quite an impression on everyone.”

Brian scratched his head, messing up his already disorderly hair. “That’s an understatement. Justin... he... I’m sorry he didn’t come to class. He’ll be here next week. I don’t want him to miss any more of his classes. His education is too important. Not falling too far behind.” Brian licked his lips. “When he gets out I don’t want him to be out of the habit of learning and studying, do you know what I mean, Miss....?”

“Amy Carver,” said Amy. “And I do know what you mean.” Amy paused. “Do you think Justin will get out of here soon?”

“I hope so,” said Brian. “Now more than ever. Do you know the Prisoners’ Legal Defense, Miss Carver? That prisoners’ advocacy group? There are people there working on his case.”

She was surprised to hear that. The way Justin spoke Amy had assumed that he was in for a while, at least a couple of years. “That is very good news... Brian.” 

Amy took a deep breath. She’d almost called him ‘Mr. Kinney.’ That would make him ask questions. His name was too well known in certain circles. And he seemed a naturally suspicious man. But he undoubtedly had good reason to be suspicious of any stranger, even a well-meaning stranger like her.

“Yes, it is,” the man returned. He seemed ill at ease around her. Maybe he simply wasn’t used to talking to a woman. “Justin loves your class. It gives him an outlet for his creativity. He’s a very talented artist. I don’t know if you realized that, Miss Carver.”

Amy nodded. “He’s written about his artwork. I hope he’ll show me some of it one day.”

“Maybe he will,” said Brian. “Listen, I have to go now. Get back to the tier. I’m not supposed to be over here, but I... I wanted to explain why Justin wasn’t in class. And give you his story.” 

“Thank you, Brian. I hope Justin feels better,” said Amy. She didn’t shake his hand. Touching inmates was forbidden. But then, he didn’t offer his hand, either.

“So do I,” he said. “Thanks.” And then he hurried away, down the hallway and then down a side stairwell.

Amy watched Brian Kinney disappear and she felt a chill go through her. But she didn’t know why.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian talks to Ben.

Chapter 25

 

Juice was smoking a cigarette, leaning against the wall and waiting for Brian at the head of the passageway.

“Did you see the teach?” asked Juice.

“Yeah,” said Brian as they walked back into the Quad. “All the kids were sitting in there, scribbling away. I gave her Justin’s story. She seemed worried about him.”

“Well, you said Justin is her best pupil.” Juice frowned. “Don’t you start worrying about him, Bri. I think the kid is having some kind of reaction to all the excitement of planning the party and then... that little encounter at the end. The kid has been through a lot of shit in the past few months. He’s a suburban country club brat and not a street punk, like Stormy or Joey. Being arrested and then convicted must have been traumatic enough, not to mention what happened after he got here.”

“I know,” said Brian. “Emmy is up there with Justin now. He’s sick, but I don’t know if he’s really got a stomach ache or if it's pure fucking fear.”

“The kid showed balls, Bri,” said Juice. “He put up a righteous front.” 

“Yeah, he did,” Brian agreed. “But not when we were alone. Not back in the cell, in the dark. That’s when he fucking fell apart. And how do I deal with that? Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s better for him to forget about it all or to face it somehow. Talk about it. Get it out of his system.” 

Juice looked at Brian. This man had survived hell. He must have done something to protect himself. “How did you deal with what happened to you, Bri? Did you talk to someone about it?”

Brian laughed. “Are you shitting me? Talk to who?”

Juice made a face. “How about the SOB you shared a cell with for how many years?”

“Try 8 years.” Brian stopped and took out a cigarette. He didn’t like to smoke in the cell because it irritated Justin’s allergies. And he especially didn’t want to light up there when the kid wasn’t feeling well. But he needed a smoke. Needed it badly. “You think I sat around and talked about my ‘feelings’ with Ron? Are you playing with yourself, Juice?”

“Not since I moved in with Michelle!” said Juice, lighting Brian’s cigarette.

“Good for you,” Brian returned, blowing out a puff of smoke. “No. Ron suggested that I see the staff psychologist, but after one session I realized that the guy was way too into the nasty details. He was more interested in writing down prurient prison stories than in helping me get over my fucking nightmares.”

“Did you have a lot of those?” asked Juice. “Nightmares, I mean?”

“Only constantly for about 5 years. And sometimes I wasn’t even asleep when I had them. All I had to do was pass the gate into the South Wing. Or see one of the low-riders out on the Yard or in the Chow Hall. No, I didn’t have to be asleep at all.”

“And what about Justin?”

“He has them too. Not every night, but a lot of nights. At first he used to wake up screaming. But now he just wakes up whimpering and crying. I’m not sure which one is worse.”

“That’s fucked, Bri. That’s a fucked up thing to happen to a kid.”

Brian took a hard drag on the cigarette. “A lot of kids in here have had fucked up things happen to them. Justin told me, very matter of factly, that Stormy was on the streets hustling his ass when he was 12 years old. And Jackie, the little drag queen who Emmy has taken under her wing lately, was in the county lock-up for prostitution before she got arrested in some shoplifting sting and ended up here. I don’t think Jackie is more than 20, but her fucking future looks pretty set. Same with Stormy and most of the other punks. It will be one joint after another until they end up like Andy and Beemer, playing cards in the Rec Room. Or like Ralph.”

“Ralph? Who the hell is Ralph?” asked Juice. 

“A really old guy, a lifer. Ron used to consult with him about stuff going on in the Quad. Ralph’s been in Stanton longer than anyone else and he knew everything that was going on in here. That’s why he was valuable to Ron. Now he’s in the geriatric ward over in the Hospital Wing.”

“That’s not going to happen to Justin, Bri,” Juice said. “You know that. He’s got a family and he’s got a future. He’ll get out of here and go on with his life. He’ll be a spoiled country club brat once again. No harm done in the end.”

Brian stared at the burning end of his cigarette. He thought about what it felt like to have a lit cigarette pressed directly into your skin. At first it’s the most painful thing you can imagine, but after a while you don’t feel it anymore. You don’t feel anything anymore. And the fear is that you’ll never feel anything ever again. But Brian was feeling the burn, the pain. And he was feeling the fear.

“He has to get out of here, Juice,” Brian said, dropping the cigarette and crushing under his heel. “The sooner the better.”

“When is the soonest he can go up for parole?”

Brian shook his head. “The PLD is working on it. They think they can make a case for some irregularities in the arrest. And if that doesn’t work, then they may make an appeal for shock probation. The trouble is that so many kids get ganged in prison that making the case for Justin might be hard. It will depend on the judge. And there’s politics involved, too.”

They started to walk again, down into the East Wing. “What kind of politics do you mean?”

“The prosecutor made Justin’s case a goddamn campaign issue. The guy is bucking to run for mayor someday and he was building a reputation for ‘cracking down’ on drugs. You know, Mr. Law and Order. Unfortunately, treating a naive high school kid with a couple of bags of pot like he’s a major threat to society was a fucked up strategy.” Brian took a deep breath, thinking about Justin in the Hospital. And also lying on his bunk in the cell, his stomach aching with anxiety. “But until he can get out of this hell-hole, I’m going to have to watch him every minute. It’s the only way.”

“Do you really think the bikers were serious, Brian? About going after him?” The two men paused on the landing of the stairwell. Ben’s cell was on the second tier.

“The low-riders operate on fear,” Brian answered, his voice low. “If you are afraid of what they’ll do, then sometimes that’s enough. They don’t have anything like the power they had 10 years ago, or even 5 years ago. There are fewer of them and most of their scams have been taken over by other gangs. But individually they can still fuck you up – physically, mentally, and emotionally. They’ve got Justin in a corner because they fill his nightmares. The Men from Hell, he calls them. Who knows if they’ll ever get completely out of his head? Who knows if they’ll ever get out of MY head? But all it takes is for one of them to get Justin in a place where he can’t get away. One of them to mess up his mind and hurt his body. That’s all it takes.”

“And then what, Bri?” Juice asked sympathetically.

“And then I’ll have to kill the guy. There’s no other way.” Brian looked up, as if he could see the kid, somewhere on the tier above.

“There’s always some other way, Brian. Always,” Juice asserted.

“Not for me there isn’t. I’ve never been able to face what happened to me. Never been able to do anything about it. Never been able to be a real man just for myself. But for Justin....” Brian started walking up to the third tier. “I have to do it. It’s my last chance.”

“Bri!” Juice called after him. “There’s always another chance!”

But Brian only shook his head and continued up to the tier.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is afraid.

Chapter 26

 

Brian unlocked the cell door and opened it quietly.

“Hi, hi!” said Emmy, softly. She’d been sitting on the floor, her back against the big throw pillow that she and the other queens had made for Brian’s birthday.

“How’s it going in here?” Brian glanced over at the bunk and the form huddled in it.

“Well, he drank a lot of ginger ale, but I couldn’t get him to eat anything,” said Em. “Not even the crackers.”

“That’s all right, Em. If his stomach hurts I don’t blame him for not wanting to eat.”

Emmy stood up and stretched. She had been working on needlepointing a new pillow with a rainbow design across the front. “I think I’ll be on my way then, Baby, if you think you can take over here?”

“I think I can handle opening a can of ginger ale, Em,” Brian replied.

“Well, I AM a medical professional, but even an amateur like you should be okay doing that,” Emmy returned. “However, Bri, if he’s still throwing up tomorrow, I’d take him over and have Dr. Caputo look at him.” Em gathered up her needlepoint and her movie magazines and slipped out the door.

“Thanks, Emmett.”

“You’re welcome, Baby.” Em gave Brian a quick kiss on the lips. “Good luck.” Then she headed down the tier, back to her cell.

Brian moved around the cell noiselessly. It was still early, but he was exhausted. The stress of constantly being on the alert all day was wearing on him, and staying up all night while Justin cried and was sick meant that Brian felt ready to drop. He undressed and hauled himself up into the upper bunk.

“Brian?” said a little voice in the dark.

“What Justin?”

“What are you doing up there?”

Brian sighed. “Getting some sleep. Now why don’t you do the same?”

Justin sniffed slightly. “If you’re up there, then how can I go to sleep down here?”

“Justin, I don’t want to disturb you when you aren’t feeling well,” Brian answered. But he knew it was a losing battle. He climbed down. “Do you want more ginger ale?”

Justin sniffed again. “Maybe.”

The ginger ale in the open can was warm and flat, but Justin sipped it and then burped softly. “Thank you.”

“Anything else I can get for you, your highness?”

Justin shook his head.

“You think you’re going to be sick again? Do you want to sleep on the outside?” Brian asked. He didn’t want Justin to have trouble getting to the toilet if he needed to.

“No,” said Justin. He felt safer on the inside of the bunk, with Brian between him and the door of the cell.

“Okay. Scoot over.” 

Justin moved closer to the wall and Brian got under the thin blanket.

“Did you take my story over to Miss Carver?”

“I took it right over and handed it to her. Ben went with me. The lady asked how you were, too. She seems like a nice teacher.”

“She is.” Justin was silent for a minute or two. “Did she... ask you anything, Brian?”

“Ask ME anything? About what?”

“Oh, nothing,” whispered Justin. He wondered what Miss Carver had thought, seeing Brian for the first time. She was probably expecting Justin to give her another section of Brian’s manuscript. But instead, she got the author. “I talk about you sometimes. I thought she might be curious. Maybe she’d think you were hot or something.”

Brian snorted. “Why would a nice, intelligent straight woman think that I was hot?”

“Because you are, Brian.” Justin moved nearer to Brian’s warm body. It was April, but the evenings were still chilly and the prison was drafty. “All the boys think so. Jackie has a crush on you.” The little drag queen was always following Brian’s movements with her large brown eyes.

“Don’t let Jackie’s old man, Rick, hear you say that. He’ll come over here and beat the crap out of me!” Brian joked.

But Justin made a weak gulping noise. “Don’t say that!”

“Are you going to be sick again?” Brian asked. He sat up slightly and held onto the kid tightly.

“No,” Justin whispered.

“I was only kidding,” Brian reassured him. “You have to relax, kid. You just have to, or else you’re going to be in trouble when you get back out in the Quad.” Brian stroked his silky hair. He loved touching it. “You can’t be afraid, Justin. Or at least you can’t show anyone else that you are afraid.”

“I know,” he answered, barely audible.

“That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be careful. We both have to be careful. But that’s a given in Stanton, every day of the year. You already know that. You learned it the hard way, Justin. And so did I.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Brian.” Justin could only admit, only say that he was afraid, in the darkness. But he WAS afraid. Terrified. Not for himself so much, but for Brian. Afraid of what Brian would do to protect him. Afraid of how far Brian would go to guarantee that Justin would be safe. “I never should have had the party. It was such a fucking mistake! And now... now...!”

“No! It wasn’t a mistake,” Brian soothed. “It’s not your fault that Cisco and his creeps decided to crash the party. What you did was amazing, kid. It was a success. No one has ever done anything like that for as long as I’ve been in the joint. People will be talking about it for years! What you did was fucking legendary, Justin!”

“It... it was?”

“Yes,” said Brian. “For two hours you made this place human. You made the guys forget that in here they’re no better than animals in cages. You gave them a reason to think that they were more than that. You gave them music and food and some good memories. You gave them a reason to celebrate. A reason to be happy.” Brian paused for a moment, trying to control his voice. “You gave me a reason to be happy.”

“Brian,” he breathed. He could hear Brian’s heart beating close to his ear. It was a comforting sound.

“Just be quiet,” Brian murmured. “Don’t work yourself up or make yourself sick. It’s okay, Justin. It really is.”

But they both knew that it wasn’t okay.

Justin moved his hand down and touched Brian’s cock. Caressed it gently.

“I think you better just sleep now, Justin. We’re both tired and you’re not too well....”

“Please, Brian,” he implored. “Please let me. I don’t want to waste a single minute. You... you never know if... if....”

“You can’t think like that, kid.” Brian closed his eyes. The feel of Justin’s warm, soft hands on his dick, of his body pressing against his, was almost more than he could endure.

“Please? Don’t say no!” 

And Brian let the kid take his cock into his mouth, let Justin handle him, envelop him, tend to him in a way that no one had ever done in his life. No one had ever cared so much. Or if they had, they had never allowed Brian to see that care. He thought of his mother. And he thought of Glenn, about whom he’d never know the truth of his feelings. And he also thought about Ron, who gave with one hand and took away with the other. 

But Justin never took anything away. He only gave everything he had. All of himself. All of his life.

And Brian knew that the day would come when Brian would have to do the same for Justin.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to 1969:
> 
> Ron brings Baby back to the Third Tier.

Chapter 27

 

1969

 

“Rosenblum, what the hell are you doing with THAT?” asked Officer Powell as Ron stopped at the C.O. station on the third tier. He was leading the reluctant Baby by the arm.

“This is my new cellmate,” said Ron, evenly. “So you might want to make a note of it, officer.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” Powell couldn’t believe that a sensible, intelligent inmate like Rosenblum would take up with this skanky biker punk. Powell had seen Baby around the Quad, usually skulking in and out of the cells of guys who couldn’t get or keep a punk of their own, but who had to trade the low-riders credit to use one of their whores. Powell curled his lip in distaste. It was amazing what a smart guy will do when he gets horny enough.

“No,” Ron replied. “I’m quite serious.”

Baby stared at the C.O. She’d had very little to do with guards, but being so close to one unnerved her. The low-riders had taught her that the C.O.’s were her enemies. And enough of them had used her since she’d been in Stanton – usually as a pay-off by Cisco – to know that they were no better than any of the inmates when it came to abusing a helpless body. She shrank back behind Ron, avoiding Officer Powell’s scornful glare.

“I need to get some more government issue for the kid, officer. The bikers took all his stuff and wouldn’t give it to me,” said Ron. He and Powell were on pretty good terms, so he was hoping that the C.O. would help him with what Baby was going to need.

Powell sniffed. The punk looked bad. The clothes she was wearing hung on her. “I don’t know about sizes, Rosenblum. The kid is tall, but it looks like a good, strong breeze would blow her away.”

“I know, but he still needs to wear something.”

The officer shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Ron opened the cell door and gestured for Baby to enter. Yes, she’d been in here before. She remembered the cookies. But this guy hadn’t done anything with her. That was weird. She had just gotten on the bunk and fallen asleep. So what did he want with her now?

“Things are a little tidier than the last time you visited,” said Ron. “All my files are over at the Law Library now. I’ll take you over there later in the week, after you get settled. I’ll have plenty of work for you to do.”

“Work?” Baby froze. Now she understood. This guy was short of credit, too. Just like Cisco.

“Yes,” Ron answered. “I have forms that need to be copied and a lot of stuff that needs to be filed. I also want you to handle the mail and keep the books and magazines in order.”

“Forms?” said Baby. “Files?”

“Yes,” Ron said briskly. “I need someone to help me in my Legal Aid office. You’re it. That shouldn’t be too difficult for an ex-Penn State student. I’m sure you remember the alphabet. And I’m hoping that your handwriting is fairly legible. Is it?”

Baby nodded. “I guess so.”

“Good. I hate trying to decipher bad handwriting, especially my own. That’s what I’ll start you on. Copying out reports and things.” Ron pointed to the top bunk. “You’ll be up here. I haven’t had a roommate since the last guy moved out about 9 months ago, so try not to make a nuisance of yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” Baby replied.

“I take it that punks are expected to clean up, do the laundry, make coffee, and all those little wifely duties. That’s fine for me because I hate doing those things. Is that a problem for you?”

Baby shook her head. “It isn’t a problem.”

“Good,” said Ron. His manner was extremely formal and business-like. “Now, get undressed.”

Baby nodded. She was expecting this. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. He didn’t seem like he was looking for her to make him some ready credit. And he was old, but he wasn’t hideous. He was tall and had pale blue eyes. He was even kind of handsome. Baby got undressed and watched Ron do the same. He had a lean, hairy body. She liked hairy men. She thought of Glenn and then put that thought out of her mind. That was a life that was dead. Never to return.

“Here’s your towel,” said Ron. He wrapped it around her thin waist. “Put these rubber sandals on. Your feet are a lot bigger than mine, but they’ll have to do for now. I’ll have to get you bigger ones with your other clothes.” Ron wrapped another towel around his own waist. He opened the cell door. “Follow me.”

Ron led Baby down to the third tier shower room. He turned on the water. Then he stood and looked at her.

But Baby was confused. What did he want her to do? She reached to remove Ron’s towel.

“No, not that,” he said, stepping back. “I want you to wash yourself. Now. Wash off every trace of the low-riders. Their smell. Their touch. Their taste. Every memory of them. Until you do, you can’t move on.” 

He handed her a small bar of soap. It wasn’t harsh prison soap, but a pink bar that smelled like roses. And he gave her a plastic tube of shampoo. It was green and smelled like grass. These things felt good on Baby’s tender skin. They didn’t burn her scrapes or her scars. Her hair felt soft and squeaky and clean.

“Tomorrow I’ll take you down and get your hair cut,” said Ron as they dried themselves off. “Not too short, but something that doesn’t look so faggy, okay? If you’re going to work in my office you’ll need to look neat and professional. That’s why I have to get you some clothes that fit. I don’t want my associate looking like a ragamuffin.”

“Your... associate?” Baby couldn’t stop staring at this man. What was going on? What was all of this really about?

“Yes, my associate,” Ron said as he led Baby back to the cell. Things were quiet on the tier, but it was getting close to 4:00 head count. Then the Chow Hall. “And I want you to start eating regularly. You aren’t going to be doing drugs behind my back, are you?”

Baby blinked. “No, sir.”

“Good, because I hate drugs. Remember when I came to see you in the Hospital?” 

Baby’s memory of that time was foggy. “I think so.”

“If I find out that you’ve been using, I’ll take you over to the West Wing myself and have you tied down until you’re clean.” Ron’s voice was stern. “I know you’re clean now. Cisco told me. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” said Baby, her eyes huge.

“Good. Don’t start up again. I don’t want to deal with an addict,” Ron said as he got dressed. “Here are some clean shorts and a tee shirt. They’re mine, so they might be a little big. You’re too damn skinny! There’s no excuse for that!” Ron seemed to be mumbling to himself. “If you aren’t taking drugs I’m sure your appetite will come back fairly quickly. But in the Chow Hall tonight I don’t want you to gobble your food down. You might make yourself sick doing that.”

“The... Chow Hall?” Baby hadn’t been in the Chow Hall since her first day in Stanton. The low-riders never allowed her to go there. Cisco gave her food – when he remembered – and she ate it in the cell. Baby’s heart started to pound. She was afraid of the Chow Hall. And the Yard. She was afraid to go anywhere except the cell. Afraid to go anywhere there were a lot of people, staring at her. “Do... do I have to?”

Ron gaze softened a little. He had to remember to speak gently to this creature. Baby was like a wild animal. Ron reached out and unconsciously stroked his hair. It was still damp, but it felt clean and silken. “Don’t worry. It will be fine. I’ll be right there. We’ll take things one step at a time. You’ll learn my routine without any difficulty. Everything will be fine. Do you believe me?” Ron turned the kid’s chin to face him. To look up at him. “Do you?”

“Yes, sir.” Baby was frightened, but not of this man. She felt safe in this cell. Safe with this man. He didn’t plan to hurt her. All of that was over. She DID believe him.

Ron smiled slowly. “Good. That means that we’re partners from now on.” Ron held out his hand and took Baby’s. His hands were beautiful, with long fingers. And an ugly tattoo on the middle finger of his right hand. That was the only thing that marred them.

Ron shook Baby’s hand, sealing their partnership. “All right,” said Baby. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t worry, Brian. Things will be different from now on.”

Baby looked at Ron, startled. Brian. Yes, things would be different from now on. Very different. For Brian.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to 1969:
> 
> Ron and Baby in the Chow Hall.

Chapter 28

 

1969

 

Ron Rosenblum had always been a loner. Even on the outside he didn’t have any close friends beyond his family. Ron had always been suspicious of the motivations of other people and the paranoia of prison life only heightened that response.

So it was discomforting at first to have Baby so dependent on him. The first time Ron took Brian down to the Chow Hall, the poor kid seemed on the verge of an anxiety attack just going through the food line.

“Hey, Ronnie!” called Larry, a guy he occasionally ate with. Ron nudged Brian in the direction of the table occupied by Larry and a few of his buddies, Steve, Jake, and Tony.

Larry belonged to a small clique of older, white-collar inmates who hung together for both protection and relief from the relentless threat of life in Stanton. Larry’s pals didn’t take part in the jocker culture and none of them had punks. Having sex with one of the available boy whores would have been unthinkable. That was something that ‘real’ convicts were into, not them. These guys also weren’t into drugs or gambling or any of the other scams that infected Stanton. Most of them were short-termers and not career criminals, so they steered clear of the guys who were, and they all lived in the more laid-back East Wing, on the second or third tier, like Ron. 

“What you got there, Ron?” asked Jake, eyeing the terrified Baby. “New client?” The guys were always joking around about Ron’s professional dealings with the prison low-lives. 

Ron set down his food tray. Then he pulled out the chair next to him. “You sit down right here, Brian. And eat as much as you can, all right?”

Baby nodded. “Okay.” She sat down and looked at the other inmates at the table. 

All of these old men were strangers to her. And they didn’t seen very welcoming. They were frowning at her. Baby was suddenly very aware of her baggy pants and ill-fitting shirt. She knew that she looked bad. Really bad. Ron, on the other hand, looked almost stylish, even in workpants and prison shirt. His clothes fit him perfectly and they were clean and well-cared for. 

“Gentleman,” said Ron. “This is Brian.”

No one responded. They looked at Ron and then they looked at the kid. This must be a joke. Ron had an odd sense of humor.

“Brian is my new cellmate,” said Ron, digging into his meatloaf.

“You’re shitting us,” Larry replied. “Since when?”

Ron looked up. “Since this afternoon.” He leaned over to the kid. “Drink all of that milk and then go up and get more. They’ll give you another carton if you ask.”

“Okay,” Baby said softly. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Ronnie?” asked Tony. “Babysitting?” 

“No,” said Ron, coolly. “I’m not.” 

“Then what’s with this kid? He belongs over in the South Wing,” said Steve. “He part of some case that you’re working on?” Steve didn’t like punks and he didn’t like queens. They were freaks and anyone who did anything with one of them was obviously some kind of pervert.

“Brian is my new associate,” Ron answered. He didn’t like Steve. He was a sneak. “He’s going to help me in the office.”

The men exploded in laughter. “THAT is going to help you? Help you do what, Ronnie?” Larry asked. “THAT is good for only one thing. I didn’t think you were into fag stuff!”

Baby looked down at her plate, feeling sick to her stomach. She was hungry, but she couldn’t eat in front of these men. They knew what she was. They would convince Ron to get rid of her. To send her back to the South Wing. And that would be the end of everything. 

“I’m not,” answered Ron. “I’m going to train Brian to help me with my PLD work. He was a college student and should pick up what he needs to know fairly quickly. I already have more work than I can handle, so having an assistant to do the filing and keep things in order should be just the ticket.” Ron looked over at Brian. He was picking at his food, his face red with shame. “Go and get me another pop, will you, kid?”

Brian nodded and stood up. He went and stood in line to get another can.

“You aren’t really hooking up with that... that biker trash?” said Jake. 

“I’m not hooking up with him. I already told you. Brian is going to help me in the office,” said Ron, glaring back at Jake.

“I wouldn’t have that freak in my cell! You have no idea what she’ll do when your back is turned,” Steve declared. He watched the kid going through the beverage line, her tall, scrawny body awkward in the baggy, cast-off clothes. 

“Yeah,” added Larry. “You have something like that living with you, Ron, and guys are going to assume you’re fucking it! That makes my goddamn skin crawl!”

“Then mind your own fucking business, Larry. It isn’t your place to like it. And I haven’t asked your opinion of the situation.” Ron set down his fork. He realized that he didn’t like Larry very much. Or any of Larry’s pals. In fact, he didn’t like them at all. “Brian is my new cellmate and nothing you say is going to change my mind. I’m going to keep him, no matter what you bastards think about it.” Ron looked at each man. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Baby came back with the can of pop in her hand. She saw the old men looking at Ron with disgust. Looking at her with worse than disgust. “Here’s the drink,” she said, setting the can down next to Ron’s plate. “I think I want to go back upstairs now.”

“Sit down, Brian,” Ron ordered. “I want to see you finish your food first. Then we can go back up to the tier.”

Steve stood up. “Well, I’m not eating with THAT.” Jake stood up, too. They both picked up their trays.

“Then get the hell out of here,” said Ron. “And don’t come to me if you need any help with your fucking cases. Find someone else to do your legal work.”

The two men stalked off. Then Larry stood up. “I have to go, too, Ronnie.” He nudged his pal, Tony. “You coming?”

Tony grimaced. “Jesus, Larry! Ron’s working on my appeal! Give me a break!” 

“Take off, you pussies!” said Ron. “I can’t eat with your ugly faces giving me indigestion!” And he watched both of them ditch their trays and leave the Chow Hall.

“I’m sorry,” said Baby in a faded voice. “I... I’ll eat somewhere else.”

“No,” asserted Ron. “You won’t. Those guys are assholes, Brian. Just wait until they need me to fill out their forms or advise them on their paroles. You’ll see how fast they come crawling back. And when they do, I’ll have YOU do their work for them. That’ll teach them a fucking lesson!” Ron started laughing. He was already savoring the irony of it.

“Then... you aren’t going to send me back?” Baby couldn’t comprehend it.

“Of course not,” said Ron. “I’ve already told you that I need your help in the office. I’ve had my eye on you for weeks. I was just waiting for my chance to get you away from that idiot, Cisco.”

“Really? You mean that?” Baby gaped at this man. His eyes were so blue and intense. And his hair was dark and curly.

“I said so, didn’t I?” Ron replied impatiently. “I always mean what I say. And remember this, Brian – I have no reason to lie to you. You aren’t my client and you aren’t a cop and you aren’t my wife. Which means that I can level with you. And you can level with me. Which is the way things have to be if you’re really going to be my associate. Understand, Brian?”

And Brian nodded. He understood. He picked up his carton of milk and drank it down. Then he went up to the beverage line to get another one. He was suddenly very, very hungry.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Flashback to 1969.
> 
> Baby seals the deal with Ron.

Chapter 29

 

1969

 

Ron noticed that Brian was rubbing his eyes and yawning. Even with the windows open and the fans going on high, it was stuffy in the Law Library on an early summer day, and the pair had been working non-stop since lunch.

“Are you tired, Brian?” asked Ron.

“A little,” Brian admitted. “And I have a headache. I guess I’m still not used to doing so much paperwork at one sitting.” 

Ron closed the folder he was working on and pushed his chair back from the desk. “Let’s get some air before we have to go back up for 4:00 head count.”

Brian grinned. As much as he enjoyed working with Ron in Legal Aid, it was exhausting. He wanted so much to do a good job and not be a disappointment, but often when they finished for the day, Brian’s head was throbbing. 

But as hard as he tried, it was difficult to impress Ron. He was always finding mistakes in Brian’s copy and Brian would often spend hours redoing reports and filling out forms again and again until they were to Ron’s satisfaction. Then, back in the cell, Brian also had to clean up the place, do the laundry, and fold and put Ron’s clothes away just so. 

Not that Brian was complaining, because he wasn’t. He was happy with his new situation and happy to have a routine that was as close to normal as was possible in prison. The weeks he had been living with Ron were like a different world from his nightmarish existence in the South Wing. But sometimes Brian wondered if he would ever really be able to please his meticulous cellmate.

Ron had seen that Brian got a new set of government issue clothes, including new shoes, that actually fit him. And a haircut, too. Brian wasn’t sure about the haircut at first, but when he saw himself in the mirror he thought that he looked older and more like a man, and not at all like a biker punk or a little queen. People treated him differently, too, when he was with Ron. Ron didn’t allow anyone to disrespect his new associate, and he was vocal about withholding his legal help from any guy, including some of his so-called friends, who made disparaging comments about the kid.

Brian was eating regularly and he’d started to use the running track first thing every morning, which made him feel healthier than he had since before he’d been arrested. He even went up to the Gym and worked out with Ron a few times a week, building up his strength slowly, but steadily. The physical bruises and scars that the low-riders had inflicted had faded, even if the emotional ones still lurked beneath the surface. But the only outward mark of Brian’s time in the bikers’ tip was the tattoo on the middle finger of his right hand. That was there forever.

Whenever he went out on the Yard, Brian was wary. He always had one eye out for the low-riders, although they had never approached him or made any kind of acknowledgement of his existence now that he was out of their control. But they’d taken him once, and in Brian’s nightmares they were always there, waiting, somewhere in the dark, to take him again.

But today the bikers were nowhere on the Yard. A softball game was going on and the basketball courts were busy, as usual. It was a sunny day and Brian could hardly wait to drop himself down on the cool grass and take off his shoes.

“I go to all that trouble of getting you new shoes, Brian, and all you want to do is take them off the first chance you get!” said Ron.

“Oh, sit down!” said Brian, pulling off his socks. 

“On the grass? And get grass stains on my clean pants?” Ron scoffed.

“Don’t be such a tight ass! If it feels good, do it!” Brian laughed, trying to picture Ron doing anything just for the hell of it.

Ron made a face and sat down on the grass, gingerly. “Now how am I going to get back up?”

“A fork-lift?” Brian smirked. “Hey, I’m going to get a pop. You want one, too?”

“Sure,” said Ron. And he watched Brian jump up and dash over to the snackbar. Sometimes he wondered where the kid, who had been practically comatose a few months before, got all of his energy. But Ron had to admit that being around Brian so much had revitalized Ron in a lot of ways. He was going to the Gym again and he was spending more time outside instead of closed away in the Law Library every hour of the day. Ron even started going to Movie Night every Friday because Brian wanted to see the films. And he was enjoying doing these things. 

Ron had even asked for a Conjugal Visit with his wife, Jane, for the first time in over a year. The natural sexuality that young Brian exuded seemed to be rubbing off on his cellmate. Ron found himself waking up with a hard-on every morning, something that hadn’t happened to him since he was a horny college student.

Ron looked over to see what was keeping Brian. And he saw the kid standing at the snack stand with Vince DeFranco, a burly inmate with a reputation as a tough guy and an ass bandit – a guy who tended to take what he wanted sexually. Brian was obviously trying to avoid the jock, but Vince kept leaning in on the kid. Ron sat up. Not that Ron cared about what Brian wanted to do with other guys – IF he wanted to do anything. That wasn’t Ron’s business. They were only cellmates, after all. Nothing more than that.

But guys were usually a little circumspect when Ron was with Brian. They certainly didn’t hit on the kid right in front of Ron. They wouldn’t have had the balls. But Vince apparently thought Ron wasn’t around. That Brian was alone and defenseless. Ron saw Vince take hold of Brian’s arm and pull him. And Ron was on his feet and heading across the grass before he even realized what he was doing.

“Get your fucking hands OFF!” said Ron, bristling.

Vince looked around, startled. “Hey, Mister R.” Rosenblum was helping him fight a divorce that his goddamn wife had filed for. Vince glanced at the kid. He’d paid Cisco to fuck him a number of times and since he was no longer biker property, he figured that there was no harm in trying to hook up with him, maybe even for the long-term. He’d been a sweet piece of ass before, but cleaned up, he was even better! The kid was celling with the lawyer, but word on the Yard was that Rosenblum was a guy into real pussy only. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ron demanded.

“Just trying to make a little time with the kid here,” admitted Vince, frowning. The lawyer was acting like an angry jocker. Maybe he was the punk’s old man, after all. Maybe that’s why the punk had been giving him the brush-off. Rosenblum was about Vince’s height, but he wasn’t as big or bulked up as the jock. Still, Vince didn’t want to piss the lawyer off and screw up his divorce!

Ron seized Brian by the elbow. “Come with me, Brian! Now!”

“The kid didn’t do anything, Mister R.! I didn’t know he was off-limits!” Vince explained. 

“If I see you even breathing on Brian again, I’ll nail your ass to the wall, DeFranco!” Ron spat at the man. “Your wife will take your kids and I’ll make certain that you never see them again. EVER!”

“Ron, it’s okay!” Brian said. “He was just talking to me!”

Ron pulled Brian back over to the grass. “Get your shoes and let’s go!”

Brian picked up his shoes and followed Ron back into the East Wing. Vince and a lot of other guys were watching. And then speculating about the little scene that had just played out.

As Ron walked back up to the tier he tried to understand what had just happened. When he saw that big lunkhead putting his fucking hands on Brian, he saw red. Yes, he was jealous! That guy was touching something that was HIS! Ron turned to look at Brian, trailing after him, his head down, carrying his shoes and socks in his hand.

“Has that guy been bothering you, Brian? Tell me the truth!”

Brian shrugged. “He was only asking if I was available.”

“Available for what?” asked Ron, sharply.

“You know,” said Brian, squirming. “He was one of Cisco’s customers. He... he likes me. He wanted to know about... about me hooking up with him.”

Ron felt the blood rushing into his face. “Doesn’t he know that you’re celling with me? Working with me at the Law Library?”

“Sure, but...” Brian hesitated.

“But what?” said Ron, stopping at the bottom of the stairwell. He grabbed Brian’s hand and squeezed it.

“But we aren’t hooked up, Ron!” said Brian. “Vince knows that. All the jockers know that! That makes me... fair game.”

Ron’s teeth were on edge. “Meaning that other guys have been badgering you, too? And what have YOU been doing about it? Putting out for them? Is that it?”

Brian winced. “Sometimes I don’t have any choice! If two guys corner me in the john or in the Gym shower, what am I supposed to do?” Brian was almost crying. “It’s easier to just... just give in than get knocked around. It’s... a small price to pay if they leave me alone afterwards.”

Ron’s gut clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me that this was happening, Brian?” Ron’s voice was softer now. 

Brian looked away. “What are you going to do about it? You’re not my old man, Ron. You’re my boss, you’re my cellmate, you’re my... my friend, but that’s all. Those guys know that. They know you aren’t a jocker. They know you don’t want a punk. So....”

Ron took a deep breath. “You want to hook up with this guy, this Vince? Is that what you want?”

“Of course not!” Brian replied. He looked up at Ron. Looked at him intently. Then Brian walked up the stairs to the cell without looking back.

They didn’t speak during afternoon head count. And down in the Chow Hall during dinner the two also sat in near silence. Ron talked to Ralph, an old inmate who often provided Ron with information about things happening in the Quad, but Brian didn’t contribute to the conversation. After dinner Brian sat in the TV Room until 10:00 p.m. lockdown, while Ron stayed in the cell, reading a law journal.

“Have fun watching the tube, Brian?” said Ron, putting aside his magazine as Brian closed the cell door.

“Not really.” Brian undressed without looking at his cellmate.

“If you want to move out, then say so, Brian,” Ron asserted. “You aren’t my slave. No one is forcing you to live here. As long as it doesn’t affect your work in the Law Library. Because I didn’t spend all that time training you just to let you turn your back on me!”

“I’m not turning my back on you, Ron,” Brian said quietly. He folded his pants and shirt neatly and put them away on the shelf. Then he slipped off his tee shirt and grey shorts and put them in the laundry bag.

Ron was used to seeing Brian naked. The kid seemed to have little shame about his body, or else he was simply immune to anyone looking at him. Over the weeks Brian had been living with him, Ron had found himself staring at the kid more and more. And especially now that Brian was beginning to fill out. His golden skin was moist with sweat in the close, humid cell. 

Ron was well aware of the looks the kid got wherever he went. Of the attention that the jockers paid to him. Ron had dismissed that attention before, but now he saw it as a threat. Ron had thought he’d been protecting Brian, but he was naive. He’d been blind to what was really going on with the other men in the Quad. And even more blind to his own desires. Yes, he WAS jealous. Damned jealous!

And now Brian was wandering around the cell naked, putting things away, moving shit around. He’s doing it on purpose, just to bug me, thought Ron.

“Turn out the light and go to bed, for godsake!” Ron said, finally. 

Brian snapped off the bulb over the sink. The lights on the tier had been dimmed after lockdown. Brian stood for a few minutes gazing out the door. He touched himself, absently. Or perhaps not so absently, Ron wondered.

Brian came back to the bunk and looked down at Ron. “Do you want me to move out, Ron? I can’t tell what you’re thinking at all,” Brian whispered. “Why did you bring me here? What did you really want?”

“I... I told you, Brian,” Ron answered. It was hot on the tier in early summer. And even hotter in the cell. “I wanted an assistant. I... I wanted... someone to... help me.”

“Don’t you ever want anything more than that? Anything?” asked Brian. He lay down on the lower bunk, pushing himself up against Ron. Brian touched the curly hair on Ron’s chest. Ran his long fingers down Ron’s sides.

“Don’t do that,” Ron mumbled. “This isn’t a good idea, kid.” Ron had been in prison for 4 years and never been tempted to do it with another guy. Never thought about. Never dreamed about it. Until he saw Brian that first time over in the low-riders’ tip. After that he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Why not?” Brian took a firm hold of Ron’s cock. And it came alive in the his soft hand.

“I... I can’t do this,” Ron breathed. “You don’t understand – I can’t do this kind of shit with another man!”

“But I’m not a man,” he whispered, putting his red, full mouth against Ron’s. “I’m Baby.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer has a bad day.

April 1978

 

“Jennifer,” whispered Ron. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I see you brought Mrs. Novotny again.”

The two stood in the line of people going into the Visitors’ Gallery at Stanton Correctional Facility for Men.

“I couldn’t say no to her,” Jennifer Taylor said tensely. “She’s been so nice to me.”

“She’s a leech, Jennifer.” Ron glared in the direction of Debbie Novotny, who was still going through her bag of items to give her son, Mikey. “She’s taking advantage of you. We could have driven here together. And afterwards... there’s a motel just off the Interstate. No one would ever see us there.” Ron leaned closer. “It’s been over a week.”

“I know!” Jennifer breathed. “I’m sorry.”

Ron straightened himself and moved away. “It’s your call, Jennifer. It’s always been your call.”

“Ron, please!” But Jennifer cut herself off because Debbie Novotny was moving towards her.

“I see you hooked up with that lawyer, hon,” said Deb.

“What?” Jennifer was startled.

“Is he working on your boy’s case? For the Prisoners’ Legal Defense?” 

“Oh, yes,” Jennifer recovered. “He’s working on it personally. He gives me hope.”

Debbie grinned. “That’s swell, sweetie! Don’t worry, your son will catch a break. You gotta have faith.”

Jennifer smiled weakly. “I... I’m trying. I really am.”

And they moved into the Visitors’ Gallery.

Justin saw his mother sit down at the table next to Michelle’s mom.

“What are you going to say, Justin?” Michelle whispered.

Justin shrugged. “I’ll just ask her and see what excuse she comes up with, but it better be a good one.”

“What are you two talking about?” asked Brian. He was wearing his new Chuck Taylor sneakers and also his new red pullover. He had to put on his prison shirt over it before they’d let him into the Visitors’ Gallery, but he was wearing it. Justin kept telling him how great it looked on him. That made Brian feel good.

“Oh, nothing,” said Justin, casually. “Just some stuff with my mom.”

Brian saw Ron enter the Gallery. He had another paper bag with him, besides his briefcase. More goddamn cookies, probably.

“Justin!” Jennifer called. She hugged him across the table.

“Hey, Mom,” said Justin, his voice subdued.

“You’re looking wonderful, honey! So wonderful.” Jennifer pulled out her kleenex because she knew she was going to cry.

“Whatever, Mom.”

“Justin, is something the matter?” Jennifer frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

Justin stared back at her. “Brian’s presents. His birthday was Monday, Mom. I know you didn’t forget because I kept reminding you. Asking you about them. So what happened, Mom?”

Jennifer licked her lips. “I... it was... Your father didn’t think it was... a good idea, honey. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“That is SUCH bullshit!” Justin exploded. “I bet you never even told Dad about Brian’s presents. I’m sure you didn’t! Not that he would give a fuck! He doesn’t give a fuck about anything having to do with me!”

“Justin, your language!” Jennifer shuddered. She twisted her kleenex into shreds.

“Fuck my language, Mom!” Justin returned. “Who gives a shit about my language? You let me down. I was counting on those gifts. I had a big party for Brian. I got a cake and ice cream and we had decorations and music – everything. Everything but my presents.” Justin’s face was red.

“I’m sorry, Justin. I... I couldn’t get those things... I....” Jennifer stumbled.

“I wasn’t asking for much, Mom,” said Justin. “Some clothes and some books and a radio. For Brian’s birthday. You know how much he... he means to me. But you couldn’t even do that much for me, could you, Mother? Do you hate Brian that much?”

“No, of course I don’t,” said Jennifer, her voice forced.

“You have no idea what he’s doing for me. You can’t understand just how much, Mom.” Justin took a deep breath. “I’d be DEAD if it weren’t for Brian. Do you hear me? If you don’t believe it, ask your good friend, Ron!”

Jennifer blinked. “My... my good friend? R...Ron?”

“Yes,” said Justin, glancing down the row to the table where Brian sat with the ex-lawyer. “Ron Rosenblum. Brian’s ex-lover here in prison. I told you all about that and so did Mrs. Novotny. Maybe you didn’t believe it, but it’s true. Ron’s still obsessed with Brian. Do you know that, Mom? He still writes Brian gushy letters about how much he loves him and how much he misses him!”

“Don’t be silly, honey,” said Jennifer. She felt dizzy. “Ron... Mr. Rosenblum is married.” 

Justin snorted. “He might have a wife on the outside, but that doesn’t mean shit, Mom. Maybe he can get it up for women when he has to, but he’s hung up on Brian! And he always will be! He wants to have a Conjugal Visit with Brian. He’s trying to swing it with the warden.” Justin narrowed his eyes at his mother, watching her squirm. “He wants to fuck Brian again so bad he can taste it. Whether you believe that or not.”

“It... it isn’t true,” said Jennifer, her eyes darting down to search for Ron. “That’s something from the past, Justin. That was something... something....” Jennifer gripped the edge of the table.

“Why would you care who Ron wants to fuck, Mom?” said Justin, his voice deadly. “Why would it matter to you? You said that he’s working on my case for the PLD, right? And that’s his only interest in my case, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Mother?”

“Yes, that’s his only interest, Justin. I mean, in your case. That’s all.” Jennifer’s throat was dry.

“So how did Mr. Rosenblum get my list, Mom? How did he know everything that I wanted to give to Brian. Unless YOU gave it to him. But why would you do that? Huh? Tell me!”

“The... list? Your list?” Jennifer frowned.

“Yes, because he sent Brian everything that was on MY list. Even the books. The exact titles. For Brian’s birthday. With a nice card.” Justin leaned back and crossed his arms. “Funny coincidence, isn’t it? Unless Ron can read my mind. Or unless he got the list from YOU. Which is what happened. The only question is why, Mom? Why did you do it?”

“I... I... Justin, I can explain!” But Jennifer couldn’t explain. She couldn’t. She only stared at her son in confusion.

“Sure, Mother. Explain away!”

And Justin stood up and walked out of the Visitors’ Gallery.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tells Ron some hard truths.

Chapter 31

 

April 1978 

 

“Brian,” said Ron, sitting up straighter in the hard wooden chair. “You came.” Ron broke into a broad smile.

But Brian wasn’t smiling. He slipped into his seat, across the table from Ron. “Yes, I came.”

Brian was nervous. He put his hands on the table, trying to keep them still, but it was impossible. Brian desperately wished that he had a cigarette, but it wasn’t allowed in the Visitors’ Gallery.

“You look good, Brian,” said Ron. Now he was nervous, too. He’d never felt ill-at-ease with Brian before. “But you always look good. Your hair looks longer.”

“Maybe a little. I haven’t had time to get it cut.” Brian kept glancing around, trying to look anywhere but at Ron. He touched his hair, unconsciously, pushing it back from his face.

“It looks fine. Just fine.” Ron fumbled with the paper bag on his lap. “I brought more cookies. I know you like them. Cookies, I mean.” Ron took the tin out of the bag and pushed the it across the table.

Brian frowned. What was it with Ron and the cookies? Oh, well. Justin and the other kids would eat them. “Thanks.” Brian gestured to one of the C.O.’s to check the tin. Anything the visitors brought had to be checked for drugs or other contraband.

“So, how does it feel to be 30, Bri?” Ron noticed that Brian was wearing the red pullover. And the Chuck Taylors. Ron was hoping that Brian would mention them. Would thank Ron. That would be almost as good as an apology.

“Same as it felt to be 29. And 28.” Brian shrugged. “I don’t get the whole fuss about birthdays. It’s just a day.” Brian paused and saw Ron’s expectant face. That made him feel a tinge of guilt. After all, Ron had sent that birthday card. He’d never given him a card before. But Ron had never been outside on Brian’s birthday before, either. “Thanks by the way. For the card.”

Ron smiled again. “I knew you would like it. I picked it out myself.”

Brian tapped his fingers against the table. Ron seemed so focused on this birthday stuff and the stupid card. Brian couldn’t even really remember the card. Some cartoon animal and a silly saying. Justin had all the cards pasted up on the wall and he looked at them, cared about them, much more than Brian did. “Yeah, thanks.”

“And?” said Ron. Damn it! Getting Brian to say anything these days was like pulling teeth. “The sweater? It looks great, by the way.”

“Yes, it does look good, doesn’t it?” said Brian. He touched the soft fabric. “Justin always knows what I like.”

“Justin?” said Ron. A chill went through him. 

“He got me this sweater and these shoes, too.” Brian lifted his foot to show the Converse sneakers. “For basketball. I’m playing on the third tier team, now.”

“What else did JUSTIN get for you, Brian?” Ron was trying to keep his voice even. That fucking kid had stolen his package! Of course he did! He must have picked it up with the other mail and taken it for himself. The little bastard!

Brian looked at Ron strangely. “Why are you so interested in Justin all of a sudden?”

“Just making conversation,” Ron replied tightly.

“He gave me some books. A radio. Some other clothes. Things that I needed,” Brian answered candidly. “Things I’ve needed for a while.”

Ron gritted his teeth. “I could have gotten those things for you, Bri. You know that! All you had to do was ask!”

Brian gazed back at Ron. His eyes were so green and the gold flecks were like points of fire. “But with Justin I didn’t have to ask. He KNEW. He looked and he saw what I needed. Just like you would have known exactly what I needed – what might have made my fucking life in here a tiny bit easier – if you’d only taken two minutes to think about it, Ron. That’s all it would have taken. Two minutes. But you never bothered. You had better things to do. More important things to do.”

“That’s such a fucking lie!” Ron retorted. “Everything you had was something I gave you!”

“Yeah, something you didn’t want or didn’t need anymore,” Brian answered. “Better to give it to me than throw it out. Thanks, Ron. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t twist things, Brian! You love twisting things!” Ron felt himself getting hot. The Visitors’ Gallery was stuffy. “You love making me squirm, don’t you Brian? Why are you acting like this? Why?”

“I don’t know, Ron. Maybe I can see things more clearly now, without you in my face all day and all night.” Brian’s hands were twitching now.

“And that kid helps you see things clearly, is that it?” Ron was angry now. Angry with Brian. With Justin. And with himself. If he hadn’t made so many stupid moves, all of this wouldn’t be happening! If he had only paid Brian a little more attention. Brian was in there by himself. He was lonely. No wonder he’d latched onto that kid!

“It has nothing to do with Justin, Ron. It has to do with you. And me.” Brian touched his prison tattoo lightly. ‘Resist.’ “And that letter you sent me. Was THAT supposed to make things all dandy again? Wasting your time trying to wrangle a stupid Conjugal Visit? I never read such a load of horse shit in my life!”

“I... I wrote that letter when I was upset, Brian!” said Ron. “When you wouldn’t see me!”

“And I’m beginning to think I was right last month,” Brian said sadly. “That I shouldn’t have come here today, Ron. Because you are starting it all up again. What IS your damage? You don’t need me, Ron! So why do you keep coming here?”

Ron wanted to jump up and shout. “I come here to see YOU! Why else?”

Brian sighed. “Go home to your wife, Ron. And all those women you told me you were looking forward to fucking when you got out. Did you manage to nail good old Julie?”

Ron nodded weakly. Brian knew him too well. “Yes. I nailed Julie. We... we’ve been having sort of an affair since I started back to work.” 

“I figured that. She’s always had a thing for you.” Brian rubbed his eyes. “And you probably have plenty of other women, too. I can’t imagine that you wouldn’t. Well, I say enjoy yourself. Why the hell not?”

“But they aren’t YOU, Brian!”

“I’m NOT one of your females, Ron!” Brian was tired of this discussion. “And you aren’t a fag, Ron! So get over it. It was prison shit. Prison sex. And now it’s OVER!”

Ron leaned across the table, his voice low. “I know you aren’t just some female, Bri. But it’s different with us! It ISN’T about sex! It’s about... about....”

“Don’t say ‘love,’ Ron, because that’s fucked up!”

“Why not about love?” Ron breathed heavily. “Why not?”

Brian looked at Ron’s face carefully. “How many guys have you fucked since you’ve been out?”

“What?” Ron drew back.

“You heard me,” said Brian. “Tell me the truth. How many times have you gone down to that place in Pittsburgh? What’s it called? Liberty Avenue? Gone to a bar there and picked up a guy? How many times?”

Brian would know if he lied. “I... a couple of times. A... a few times. It was nothing, Bri! Nothing!”

“I knew it. Maybe you’re a fag after all, Ron. Congratulations.” Brian stretched his long fingers and then balled them up into fists. “You act like you hardly give a damn about me. You’re out there doing whatever and whoever you feel like doing. You don’t care. Until you find out that I’m hooked up with someone else. Trying to reclaim your personal property, Ron? Is that all it is?”

“You aren’t anyone’s property, Brian!” Ron asserted. He didn’t want Brian to get angry. When Brian got angry he got stubborn. And then he wouldn’t listen to anyone. “You hit me with that stuff about the kid from out of left field! All you talk about now is that kid! You want me to be jealous? You want me to feel hurt? Okay, I’m jealous! I’m hurt! Are you happy now?”

Brian swallowed. “No, I’m not happy, Ron. I don’t want you to be hurt. But I don’t see why you should feel hurt. You’re OUTSIDE, Ron, in case you hadn’t noticed. That’s what you had been planning for and dreaming about for the last four years of your sentence. Getting out. Getting back to your real life. Your wife. Your kids. Working with the PLD. That’s what you wanted.”

“Isn’t that what every guy wants, Bri? To get out?” Ron couldn’t understand what Brian was getting at.

Brian blinked. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. Much harder. “Yes, that’s what every guy thinks about. And I don’t blame you for it, Ron. But how did you think that I would feel when you left? How I felt, watching you get ready to go, knowing that... that I’ll be here until my fucking hair turns gray? That I’ll be here so long I won’t even remember what it’s like to be on the outside. Because I’ll never have a ‘life’ to return to, Ron. I’ll never have a family, or anyone else, waiting for me to get out. That’s MY reality.” 

Ron felt like someone had sucker punched him. “Brian....” 

Brian looked down at his hands. “So if I’m trying to grab whatever little piece of life I can, while I can, why is that a threat to you, Ron? I know you’re working to get the kid a new trial and I thank you for that. Julie’s been keeping me posted on your progress. I know you’re doing what you can – and I don’t give a damn what your motives are! I only want Justin out of here as soon as possible. So on that we’re all on the same page.” Brian paused. “But when he’s gone... that will be it. And I hope that Justin does what I... I wish you would do, Ron. Go – and never look back! Forget you ever knew me. And I mean that.”

Brian stood up. He looked over to where Justin was visiting with his mother. But Mrs. Taylor was sitting alone, crying. Justin was gone. Brian had never even seen him leave. Brian felt wave of fear pulse through him.

“I have to go.”

“Brian! Wait!” called Ron after him. “Baby! Come back! Come back!” Ron was shouting, but he didn’t care. “Baby!”

But Brian didn’t turn around. He left and he never looked back.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin explains the presents.

Chapter 32

 

When he left the Visitors’ Gallery Brian wanted to run, but he wasn’t certain where he was running to.

“Justin!” he called out. Brian headed for the passageway. It was the only way to get back to the Quad from the Administration Building unless you went outside and that wasn’t permitted.

“Brian.” He heard a small voice under the stairwell.

Justin was huddled there, his knees drawn up to his chin, his face hidden.

“Justin! Are you all right?” Brian dropped to his knees and gathered the boy up into his arms. “Are you hurt?”

Justin nodded. “I’m okay. I ran out... but when I got down here I was afraid to... to walk through the passage.” He shuddered. The passageway was long and dark.

“Why did you run out like that, kid? You scared the hell out of me!” Brian held him tightly.

Justin blinked back tears. “My mom... I told her that... that.... We had a fight. She’s so fucking clueless, Brian!”

Brian smiled. “Most mothers are, Justin. It’s better that way, sometimes.”

“Brian... I need to tell you something. Something important.” Justin couldn’t look Brian in the eye. He was afraid to tell him the truth about the presents. But he had to. They couldn’t have secrets from each other. But... but what if Ron had already told him? Then Brian would think that Justin was a liar. And a thief. 

“Come on,” said Brian. He stood up and pulled Justin to his feet. “This is no place to talk. Let’s go out to the Yard. It’s a beautiful day.”

They walked together back through the passageway and down to the East Wing door. It was quiet in the Yard. Most of the men were at work or in the Visitors’ Gallery, but a few guys were shooting hoops or standing by the snackbar, drinking pop and eating popcorn.

Brian led Justin to an area of open grass. The stubby lawn was just beginning to come back to life again after the harsh winter. The grass was a little damp and cool, but Brian sat down and Justin stretched out beside him.

“Okay,” said Brian after a long silence. “Spill it.”

Justin swallowed. “I had a list. Of things that I wanted to give you for your birthday.”

Brian nodded to himself. He knew about the list. He’d even seen the list. Justin wasn’t all that good at hiding things, especially from Brian. “So, you had a list.”

“Yes,” Justin continued. “I gave it to my mother. So that she could get me the stuff and then I could wrap your presents and have them ready for your birthday party.”

“Okay,” said Brian. “The presents were great.” He frowned. “So what’s the problem?”

Justin took a deep breath. “My mom never sent the presents. I waited and waited. I even called the house and tried to talk to my father. To give him a message for her to get back to me. But... but he hung up on me.” Justin sniffed.

“He’s an asshole.” Thinking about Justin’s father made Brian angry. What a fucking jerk! “Forget him.”

“He’s still my dad,” Justin whispered. “I can’t forget that.”

“I’ve forgotten mine,” said Brian coldly. “It’s easy. Let’s talk about something else.”

“No, Brian! I have to tell you this... before I lose my nerve.”

“I’m listening,” Brian said softly.

“I kept checking for the package every day, hoping that she would send it. Then, on the morning of your party, you had a package slip in your mailbox. Em and I went over to pick it up.” Justin paused. “It was from Ron.”

Now Brian was surprised. “From Ron? A package from Ron?”

“Yes,” Justin admitted. “From Ron. The box was... was open. They’d searched it and okayed it. So it wasn’t as if I opened it myself, Brian! It was already open! Em and I took it up to her room. And... and....”

“What was in the package, Justin?” Brian put his hand on Justin’s arm.

“Everything. All the stuff on my list.” Justin’s full lips were trembling. “Your sweater. The sneakers. The tee shirts and sweats. The books. Everything that I wanted to give you. Everything I told my mother to get!” Justin looked up at Brian. “Ron stole my list!”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “But how did Ron get your list? I don’t understand.”

“My mother,” Justin whispered. “My mother gave it to him. She was the only one who had a copy. She was the only one who could have done it. So I... I asked her. Asked her why she did it. And she couldn’t answer me. She couldn’t look me in the eye.”

“Ron is working for the Prisoners’ Legal Defense, Justin. And they’re working on your case,” Brian offered. “Which means that they have to work with your mom. That’s the connection, Justin. Ron probably saw the list while they were consulting together and took the opportunity to appropriate it. That’s a very Ron-like thing to do.” 

And a very shitty thing to do, thought Brian to himself. Ron must be even more desperate than I had imagined. But Justin – the kid has balls! He took back the box and gave it to Brian anyway. He beat Ron at his own game!

“No,” Justin insisted. “She gave it to him! My own mother gave Ron my list! I saw the look on her face.” Justin stopped to gather himself. “My mother... she... she’s fucking Ron. She’s having an affair with him! With your old lover.”

Brian started. “No, you’re wrong. That can’t be true.”

“It IS true, Brian. I know it is. I know my mom. She and my dad – they’re having problems. Big problems. And now....” Justin’s voice choked.

Brian tried to think. Tried to think of another possible explanation. “You don’t know that is what’s happening, Justin. It might be something else. There could be another... another reason that... that....” But Brian couldn’t think of one.

“No, you ask your old boyfriend, Brian,” said Justin firmly. “You ask Ron why he took my list! Why he pretended to give you all of the presents that I wanted to give you! And ask him what he’s doing with my mother. Ask him THAT, Brian! Because I’d like to know the answer.”

Brian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I can’t ask him that, kid. Because I told Ron today I didn’t want to see him again. I told him to walk away and never look back. Because it’s over. Whether Ron believes that or not, I don’t know, but I’m finished. I can’t deal with him any more. And this thing with the presents – that’s just the icing on the birthday cake.”

“So, you aren’t mad at me, Brian?” Justin asked with relief. He leaned his head on Brian’s shoulder.

“No, I’m not mad.” Brian smiled. He rubbed Justin’s leg gently. He wanted to do more. He wanted to kiss the kid right there. Make love to him right there in the soft, damp grass. But he couldn’t. They couldn’t. “How can I be mad at someone who scammed the Great Ron Rosenblum? You have a legendary career ahead of you, kid, if you decide to pursue a life of crime.” Brian turned to gaze at Justin. His eyes were as blue as the sky. “Of course, I’d have to kill you, then. Because you’re going to get out of here and go back to school and never get so much as a fucking traffic ticket for as long as you live. Am I right? Do you promise me?”

“You’re right, Brian,” Justin replied. “Not even a traffic ticket. I promise.”

Brian stood up. “Good. Let’s go back to the tier. We still have over a hour until 4:00 head count. I can think of a couple of things we could do in that hour.”

Justin jumped up. The sun was shining on his face. “Yes! Come on!” 

And Justin started running, that funny little girlish run that he had. His hair was like pure gold in the afternoon light. And Brian ran after him. He knew that he would catch him in the end.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tense discussion between Jennifer and Ron.

Chapter 33

 

Jennifer pulled up to the Liberty Motel and parked in a dark corner where the car couldn’t be seen from the street. She saw that Ron’s black Lincoln Continental was already in its place in front of the room.

Jennifer nervously locked her car and walked to the door. She knocked once.

“I was wondering if you were going to come. You’re late,” said Ron in annoyance.

“I couldn’t get away. Craig has a golf game early tomorrow morning and he couldn’t find his new tees.”

Ron rolled his eyes. That damned Craig, his country club, and his continual rounds of golf. Ron had never met Craig but he hated him anyway.

Ron closed the door behind Jennifer. He had already hung up his jacket and taken off his shoes. He waited impatiently as she fumbled with the buttons on her coat, then with the zipper on her dress, her pantyhose....

Ron pushed Jennifer back on the bed. He was horny and he was angry. He’d fought with Jane before he left home. And he’d started an argument with Julie in the office that afternoon. But it wasn’t them who he was angry at. No, not these women.

Brian. He was the one. It was always Brian. He was the only one who could make him so upset. The only one who could make him so horny. Baby.

Only 50 miles away, in Stanton Correctional, Brian was in their cell, in their bunk, fucking that kid. Ron could feel it. The kid. Justin. Jennifer’s son.

He fucked her hard. Jennifer liked it that way. Her stupid husband thought he was a man, but he couldn’t fuck his wife like this! Craig Taylor didn’t like fags. He didn’t even like his own son because he was a little faggot. And Craig would probably think that Ron was a fag, too. Because Ron fucked Baby. Loved Baby! Craig didn’t know shit! He should see what Ron could do with a man. See what he could do with a woman. With Craig’s own wife. He wished that Craig was there now, watching them.

Jennifer was good. She made love almost frantically, like she was starving for sensation, starving for some kind of feeling. That was something she obviously wasn’t getting from her husband. So Ron was happy to give it to her. And then give it to her again.

Afterwards Ron lit a cigarette and smoked it pensively. Jennifer was lovely. And quite passionate once she got going. Yes, things would be perfect... except for one thing....

“Ron, can I ask you a question?”

Ron sighed. If only these females would shut up after they came. “What?”

“Are you a homosexual?” Jennifer asked.

Ron snorted. “If I’m a fag, then your goddamn husband must be a eunuch.”

“I’m serious, Ron.”

“What has your son been telling you, Jennifer?” said Ron, peevishly. “About Brian? Is that it? What’s he been saying?”

Jennifer sat up. “That you still have a... relationship with Brian. That you... you are obsessed with him. That you’re trying to convince the warden to have a Conjugal Visit with him!”

“It’s a Family Visit, Jennifer! Just like the one I’m setting up for you and Justin!” Ron took a deep breath. “Brian doesn’t have a family. It isn’t fair that he should be denied the same privileges that other inmates receive as a matter of course. It’s a legal principle.”

Jennifer’s mouth was set in a hard line. “And if you get this ‘Family Visit’ with your prison boyfriend, what are you going to do during that visit, Ron? Watch television? Cook him dinner?”

Ron got out of bed. “What I do with Brian – or anyone else – is none of YOUR fucking business, Jennifer! My so-called ‘relationship’ with Brian isn’t anyone’s concern – except ours! Brian’s and mine!”

“And my son’s concern!” Jennifer replied. “Since my son is the one living with Brian! Sleeping with Brian! The one who thinks he’s in love with Brian!” Jennifer was shaking. “Apparently Justin isn’t the only one who is in love with Brian.”

“Does this conversation have a point, Jennifer?” asked Ron. He pulled on his shorts, then his trousers. 

“Yes, it has a point,” Jennifer answered. “You asked me to give you Justin’s list. Of the things he wanted me to buy Brian for his birthday. You told me not to get anything on the list! You told me that it would just encourage Brian to take advantage of Justin!”

“So?” said Ron. He sucked his cigarette and blew the smoke out in a hard puff.

“So, YOU bought all the things on Justin’s list. And then sent them to Brian! You took my son’s list and then acted like those things were from YOU! Justin told me that you did and I believe him!”

Ron laughed. “But he obviously didn’t tell you the rest of it, Jennifer. Because your innocent little son STOLE my package and put HIS name on it. When I asked Brian about the gifts – he was wearing the sweater and the shoes – Brian said that they were from Justin. Then Brian thanked me for my card! The fucking kid swindled me! He’ll do well in prison, my dear. He has a devious mind. Brian has never done well in prison because he doesn’t think like a criminal, but your son – he’s a natural!”

“Shut up!” said Jennifer. She got out of bed and began gathering up her clothes. “Don’t talk about Justin again! Don’t even say his name!” 

“Why not?” Ron returned. “We have so much in common, little Justin and I! We’re both hung up on the same man! It’s like a perfect little circle, Jennifer. I fuck Baby and Baby fucks your son!”

“I said to shut up about Justin!” Jennifer shouted.

Ron seized the woman by the arm and shook her. “Keep your fucking voice down! And I fuck YOU, too, my dear! So don’t mention this again. Never mention Brian to me again. He’s MY business and he always will be my business.” Ron pushed Jennifer onto the bed and stepped back, his anger boiling up within him. “Your little pansy-ass son will be out of Stanton soon. In fact, I can’t get him out of there fast enough! I told you I would do that and I AM doing it! Julie is already working on the motions for the judge. But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll back off about Brian!” 

Jennifer wiped away her tears on the edge of the sheet. “How do I know that you’ll still help Justin? I can’t trust you, Ron!”

Ron laughed. “You can’t trust anyone, Jennifer! Haven’t you learned that by now? You’ll get your son home safe and sound, I guarantee it.” Ron put on his shirt and began buttoning it up. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll be the same kid that went into Stanton. Because he won’t be! And if you think he’ll ever forget about Brian... you’ll have a rude awakening, my dear. A rude awakening indeed.”

Ron finished putting on his clothes and left the motel hurriedly. But Jennifer washed herself and dressed more slowly. They had already made plans to meet next week, the same time, the same place.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Ron was back again. He always had to get in the final word. Jennifer sighed and opened it.

“Hello, Jen,” said Craig. “Fancy seeing you here.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin walks right into...

Chapter 34

 

It was Monday morning and Brian and Justin were waiting for Wesley to get his school books. 

They were all going to the Library – Brian to work in the Law office and Justin and Wes to catch up on their homework. Justin especially wanted to give Miss Carver a good story this week, since he had missed class the week before in the aftermath of the birthday party.

But then Brian saw Al coming back up the tier. He’d left about 30 minutes earlier to go to his job over in Industry.

Wesley smiled and waved when he saw his old man returning. “What’s up? What are you doing here?”

“There’s been a power failure over in the Industry Building, so they sent everyone back. It isn’t secure,” said Al. “I’m meeting Juice and Junior and we’re gonna go outside on the Yard and shoot some hoops. We got a game on Wednesday night, Bri. You wanna come with us?” 

“I was going to do some paperwork,” Brian replied. But it was a sunny day and the thought of sitting in the stuffy Law Library all morning wasn’t very appealing. “Sure. I can fill out those forms tomorrow.”

“Can we go, too?” asked Justin. 

“After you guys finish your homework,” Brian ordered. 

“I can work on my story sitting in the grass,” Justin reasoned. “In fact, it will be better because the sunshine will help my mental process.”

Brian laughed. “How do you figure that?”

“Maybe the sun will heat up his brain and make it work better? Like you warm up a car!” said Wesley. “Mine, too!”

Brian shook his head. “You two are going to study! Jesus – kids!”

Brian went back into the cell and changed into his sweatpants, a white wifebeater, and his new Converse sneakers. Then he came back out and the four climbed down to the bottom tier.

“Go straight to the Library,” said Brian. “I’ll come and pick you up for lunch.” 

“I’m going to get the mail first, Brian. Then Wes and I’ll walk over and get to work. Okay, warden?” Justin smiled.

“You do that.” Brian began bending down, but then he hesitated. Al and Wes were right there, but what the fuck? He leaned over and kissed Justin goodbye. Everyone in the East Wing knew how it was between him and Justin. What was the point in hiding it? Then the two men headed over out to the Yard.

Justin and Wesley opened their mailboxes and then the boxes of their jocks. As usual, Al had a pile of catalogs and Wesley had a letter from his mother in Indiana. Justin had a couple of letters, too. Brian had a new issue of ‘The New Yorker.’

The boys went to the library and sat down near an open window. It felt good with the warm sun and the cool April breeze coming in together.

“My ma loved the picture you drew, Justin.” Wesley was reading his letter. “She’s got it in the living room and she wants to get it framed! Wow! Like a real artist! Isn’t that swell?”

“I’m glad she likes it, Wes. Any time you want a drawing, just ask me,” said Justin. “We’re pals, remember?”

“Yeah, we’re pals!” Wesley smiled his crooked smile. “I wrote and told her about the party, but I guess she didn’t get that letter yet. She’s kind of worried about me in here. She thinks we never do anything fun!”

Justin opened the letter from his mother. He glanced over it. She was being hysterical again. Justin could hear her voice, bitching at him for walking out of the Visitors’ Gallery on Thursday. And she was making excuses about Ron and the list. Trying to make up some story about how Ron wanted to see the list and she thought it would be okay. And how Ron was helping Justin’s case and all that shit. Justin folded the letter up without finishing it. Maybe later he’d try to read it again. But it was too nice a day to ruin his mood thinking about his mother and Ron!

There was a letter from Amy Carver. Justin stared at it. Miss Carver had never written to him before. Never written to any of the boys in the class before. 

“Look, Wes! A letter from Miss Carver!”

Wesley shrugged. “You were sick last week and she was asking about you. She probably wants to know that you’re okay.”

Justin opened the envelope and began reading. “Oh, my God!” Justin exclaimed. 

“Justin, what’s the matter?”

Justin stood up. “We have to go out and find Brian! This is a letter from Miss Carver about Brian’s manuscript!”

“Brian’s manuscript?” said Wesley, puzzled. “What’s that?”

“It’s a book that Brian is writing,” Justin explained. “It’s about his life. And Miss Carver’s friend is a writer who teaches at Carnegie Mellon and has written a bunch of books. He wants to show the whole manuscript to his editor! He thinks it can get published!”

Murray the librarian came over and shushed the boys.

“Geez, Justin,” said Wesley, lowering his voice. “I didn’t know Brian was a writer. And I didn’t know Miss Carver was reading his stuff.”

“Well,” Justin admitted. “Brian doesn’t know that I’ve been giving her sections of his book to read. But now... now he HAS to agree! This means that people will read his story! And then they’ll KNOW that he’s innocent!” Justin’s heart was pounding. “This means that Brian might get released!”

Wesley’s eyes were wide. “Really? Could that happen?”

“Not only COULD it happen, it WILL happen! I know it!” Justin gathered up his books and papers. He unlocked the Law Library and put them on Brian’s desk. “Leave your stuff in here. We’ll come back and get it later.”

Wesley trotted along in Justin’s wake. “Where are we going, Justin?”

“To find Brian and tell him about his book!”

The boys burst out of the East Wing door. The Yard was busier than usual because the men who would typically be working in the Industry Building had been sent away due to the power failure. Justin and Wesley checked the basketball courts, but they didn’t see Brian or Al or Ben or any of the guys from the second or third tier teams.

“Excuse me, but have you seen Brian? Or Junior?” Justin asked one of the Bros who was shooting hoops with a bunch of Baraka’s men.

The guy nodded. “They was here but they didn’t wanna wait, kid. Too many guys wanna play some ball today! They went inside to the Gym!” The man pointed back towards the North Wing.

“Thanks,” said Justin. He turned to Wesley. “We have to go up to the Gym.”

“I’m thirsty. Can’t we get some pop?” Wesley was eyeing the snackbar hungrily.

“Okay,” said Justin. “My treat. But hurry up!”

The two walked across the grass. Some Latino guys were playing softball and other guys were tossing around Frisbees. It really felt like summer. 

Justin and Wesley rounded the softball diamond on their way to the snackbar. Then something grabbed Justin’s shoulder. Jerked him backwards, hard. And before Justin could even cry out he was behind the backstop of the diamond. 

“Well, looky what we got here,” said Hoss. His arm was wrapped tightly around Justin’s chest. “Cisco! Look what I reeled in. A little fishy fish!”

The low-riders, who had been loitering behind the backstop, out of sight of the guard tower and the main area of the Yard, gathered around their new prize.

“Sweet thing,” said Cisco, smiling. “Sweet, pretty thing.” Cisco ran his hands down the front of Justin’s workpants, cupping his crotch. 

“Let me go! You fuckers!” Justin spat as he struggled. 

But Hoss covered Justin’s mouth with his large, hard hand. “Shut the fuck up! No one’s coming to save you.” Hoss looked up at Wesley, who was standing there, white as a sheet. The bikers terrified him. And now they had Justin! “You gonna save your little friend, punk? Huh? Are ya?”

“Justin!” Wesley cried out in confusion. 

Hoss and Rowdy held the boy while Cisco undid Justin’s pants and took out his thick pink cock. “Look at this. That’s a pretty dick for a pretty piece of ass.” Cisco began stroking it slowly. “You like that, pretty thing? You’ll like it even better when my dick is in your mouth. And then when it’s in your ass. But I have to give my buddy Hoss here first dibs on that. After all, he’s the one who took your pretty little cherry, ain’t that right, Hoss?”

Hoss guffawed. “Damn straight, I did! Then we all had a turn. First me, then Rowdy, Elvis, Clint, and Reb all had their share. And then I was ready for another round. You liked that, didn’t you, fishy fish?” Hoss wrapped his arm tighter around Justin, breathing into his ear.

“Let him go!” Wesley gasped. He wanted to run, but he also didn’t want to leave Justin behind at the mercy of the bikers.

Hoss leered at Wesley. “What about you, kid? I bet you’d like a taste of my dick, too!”

Wesley backed up. “I’m getting Brian! You’ll all be sorry!”

Cisco squinted at Wesley. “Sorry? Who’s gonna be sorry? You go right ahead and get Baby, little boy! You bring him right here. ’Cause Baby and I got a date.”

All the low-riders began to laugh. Hoss took out a dirty bandanna and shoved it roughly into Justin’s mouth so he couldn’t cry out. Clint pulled up Justin shirt and began feeling his nipples, while Rowdy slipped his hands down the back of Justin’s loosened workpants. Justin fought furiously, but he was pinned on all sides. A few of the Latinos playing softball looked over in the direction of the low-riders, but they turned away, ignoring Justin’s struggle. Anglo punks were none of their business.

Wesley turned and began running as fast as he was able. To the Gym. To get Brian. And Al. And all the jockers!

“You run, little boy!” Cisco shouted after Wesley. “You tell Baby that we got something here that he wants. But you tell him that we want HIM even more! Tell him I’m waiting right here! Waiting for my Baby!”


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian to the rescue!
> 
> But at what cost?

Chapter 35

 

Al passed the ball to Brian, who paused and took the shot. It hit the rim and bounced off.

“Shit!” said Brian.

“No do-overs!” Ben called as he grabbed the ball and took another shot. 

“Juice Pig! Juice Pig!” Brian chanted, trying to throw Ben off. But the ball went in. “Lucky shot!” Michelle, who was sitting in the bleachers with Emmy, stood up and cheered.

“Brian!” A voice echoed.

The men stopped and looked around. Wesley, his face bright red, raced into the Gym. “Brian! Come quick! It’s Justin!” Wesley gasped for breath. “The Yard! The backstop!”

Brian didn’t hesitate. He raced out of the Gym at top speed. One of the C.O.’s jumped up from his desk and yelled for Brian to stop, but he rushed by him.

Brian’s heart felt like it was ready to burst as he pounded down the stairs, out the door of the North Wing, and into the Yard. The softball diamond, with its high backstop, was on the opposite end of the Quad, near The South Wing. The South and the low-riders’ tip. A few men yelled curses at him as he ran through a basketball court and knocked into two guys kicking a soccer ball. He could see a game in progress on the diamond, but he couldn’t see if anyone was behind the backstop.

He rounded the tall fence and saw the low-riders. And Justin.

They had him pushed down in the trampled grass, his pants pulled down, his face half-covered with a red bandanna, which was wedged between his lips. 

“I see you come to join the party, Baby,” said Cisco. He was zipping up his dirty workpants. Hoss was standing next to him, laughing. The younger biker pushed Justin with his boot and the kid winced. His blue eyes stared out at Brian, shining with tears.

“You fucking bastards!” Brian’s voice was shaking, but it was cold and hard. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Brian, no!” 

He felt a firm hand on his arm. It was Ben. And Al and Junior were behind him. A couple more guys had followed from the Gym and were standing their distance, waiting. Emmy and Michelle, with Wesley panting behind them, were running across the grass.

“You bring the fucking cavalry with you, Baby?” said Cisco. He spat on the grass in front of Brian. “You need a man to fight your wars for you, Baby! You need a man to do ALL your jobs for you!” And Cisco turned and spat on Justin, who closed his eyes in humiliation.

“Hand over the kid. Now.” Brian shook off Ben’s hand and stepped forward. “I said NOW!” 

The other low-riders were glancing around nervously, but their backs were against the backstop fence. Rowdy and Clint and Reb looked at the jockers from the East Wing and then at each other. They didn’t like these odds. Fucking around with the kid was fun, but it wasn’t worth getting an ass-kicking from Juice Pig and Junior. They were BIG motherfuckers! The beef with Bri Baby was all Cisco’s, not theirs. And ganging on the kid had been Hoss’ idea. They just went along with it. But now they were in the shit!

“I said to hand over the kid!” Brian demanded.

Hoss hauled Justin up by the back of his shirt and twisted his arm behind him, keeping the boy under control. “This what you want, Bri Baby? This your little pet? Huh? Well, he belongs to US by rights! WE took him and WE turned him out!”

“Yeah, but you couldn’t keep him, Hoss,” said Brian, quietly. “You can’t keep anyone anymore. You’re finished here in the Quad. You’ve fucked yourself over! THAT is your gang?” Brian glanced at Hoss’ diminished band of bikers, all looking for a way out of their corner. “What are your boys in for, Hoss? Speeding? Too many parking tickets? A bunch of scum-suckers doing short time in medium security. Big, strong men ganging up on a 19 year old kid! Some bad bikers!”

“Shut the fuck up!” shouted Cisco. He was beginning to twitch. “We had you, Baby, and we broke you down! Don't you fucking forget that!”

“Yeah,” said Brian, evenly. “I’m really broken down.” He stood a little straighter. The sweat from playing basketball was glistening on his muscular arms. “Oh, you broke me, Cisco. You can see that I’m a quivering pile of nothing!”

Behind him, Brian heard Ben laugh out loud, then the other East Wing jocks laughing even louder. The tall and beautiful Brian looked anything but broken down next to the graying, limping Cisco. 

“You go, Bri!” Emmy shouted.

“Shut the fuck up, freak!” Hoss roared back at Em. And Hoss jerked Justin’s arm tighter to make his point.

“So, you want to be a man, Hoss? Try me,” said Brian, taking a step forward. “Let the kid go and give me a try. Let’s see what you’ve got. Come on. I’m waiting.”

Hoss’ eyes’ darted around. Then he handed Justin off to Cisco, but when he did, he looked away for a second. 

And that’s when Brian lashed out with his long leg, kicking at Hoss’ feet like a soccer player kicking a winning goal. Hoss tripped forward, leaving himself open to Brian’s fist. The low-rider went down hard and Ben and Al immediately jumped in and held Hoss down.

“Brian!” Justin called. The kid had managed to pull the bandanna out of his mouth. “Watch out!”

Now that Hoss was down and the other low-riders had backed off, Cisco, fat, hobbled by his bad leg, and trying to hold onto the kid, had only one trick left in facing Baby. He pulled his shank out of his boot and held it to the brat’s throat. 

Cisco had made the shank himself from a length of discarded steel he’d picked up in the machine shop and then honed until the edge was sharp as a razor. Justin’s felt it prick his tender skin and his heart skipped.

“You can have your pretty thing, Baby,” said Cisco, licking his lips. “But he won’t be so pretty when I’m done with him. He’s got a soft cheek, don’t he? It’d be a shame to see that face split right open.”

“Let him go and step away, Cisco,” said Brian. “And that will be the end of it.”

“No fucking way I’m lettin’ YOU get one up on ME, Baby!”

Brian stared at Justin. Think, kid, think and keep steady. “Give it up, Cisco. With your bad leg, you can’t even run away.” Come on, Justin, Brian thought. The leg!

Justin blinked. Then he closed his eyes and kicked back as hard as he could, striking Cisco’s bad left leg. The biker groaned and let his grip go slack. Justin dove for the ground, while at the same instant Brian hit Cisco full force with his long body.

But the biker lashed out with his right hand. Brian flinched and fell to his knees, his head down. He clutched at his side. Cisco dropped the shank on the ground in a panic and took one step backwards. The shank was red and wet.

Justin saw the homemade knife and reached for it. Picked it up in his hand and stared at it. 

“Shit,” cried Cisco. “Fucking shit!”

Justin turned towards the biker and rammed the shank as hard as he could directly into Cisco’s groin. Thrust it until he hit something rigid and unyielding, like bone. Then Justin twisted it until Cisco was writhing and shrieking on the grass like a stuck pig.

“Brian!” Justin dropped down next to him and held his head. “Brian,” he whispered. There was noise and confusion all around, but Brian was still. Completely still.

Emmy had whipped off her pink blouse and pressed it hard against Brian’s abdomen. But now the pink blouse was red. And the red was overflowing onto the ground.

“Hurry with that fucking ambulance!” Emmett yelled at the C.O.’s., who had finally come running.

“It’s on its way,” one of them said. He barked into his walkie-talkie. “And the doc is coming now!”

Ben knelt and stripped off his tee shirt, replacing Em’s blouse with it. In a minute it was also red. And so were Justin’s workpants and his blue chambray shirt as he held Brian in his arms.

“Brian!” Justin cried desperately. “Brian, please! Can you hear me?”

Brian opened his eyes slowly. The world looked so bright. Too bright. Justin’s golden hair was so bright. He wanted to touch it, but he couldn’t lift his arm.

“This isn’t the way I thought this story would end,” Brian whispered. 

“Brian!” Justin screamed frantically.

“I... I’m sorry,” Brian said. The brightness was getting dimmer. “Justin” was all he managed to add before he was reclaimed by the darkness.

 

*FIN*


End file.
